Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
SPENCER
H andcuffs are not fun. Zero out of ten do not recommend.
Maybe if Zane put me in them with the intent to do other activities . . .
But no.
I’m handcuffed to a fucking bed that I slept in, alone. They didn’t lock me in the room though—probably because the bed frame is solid. No matter how much I pull on my new steel jewelry, the headboard won’t budge. It’s like they nailed it into the wall.
It’s only your right hand.
That’s beside the point!
Fortunately, the room is comfortable. It has an urban look with an exposed brick accent wall, industrial pipes, dark wood used as shelves, and neutral linens. The bed is memory foam, and the temperature is cool enough at night that I actually need the blanket.
“Bathroom time, Mama,” Rio says as he enters the room.
I sigh dramatically. “Finally.”
Rio has come in a few times to let me pee, and thankfully, he lets me do that in private, unlike a certain friend of his. Zane brings me food—all my favorites—which only makes this situation more frustrating. I know none of the food they bring me is takeout because I can smell it cooking for an hour or so before it’s brought to me, which means Asher makes it, but he has yet to come in the room.
“You’ve barely touched your water.” Rio motions to the glass on the nightstand next to me, frowning at it.
“Yes, but now I get a break from staring at the wall.” Sarcasm leaks through my tone.
Rio smirks. “We gave you the remote. You could watch TV.”
“I don’t want to watch TV. I want to go home.”
“Which home would that be? The one in Chelsea, or the new one you were planning to make in California?”
Biting my lip, my eyes dart away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The sentence ends on a high pitch.
Rio reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a slip of paper, and reads, “Spencer Smith. Changing your name? It’s not very original.” He raises a brow at me then continues reading. “Departing Port Authority yesterday afternoon and arriving in Los Angeles, California tomorrow evening. Safe to say you missed your ride.”
My stomach rolls. “Where did you find that?”
“Where do you think?”
I feel the color rise in my cheeks as I think of the things he probably found in my bag. “You had no right to go through my things.”
Rio marches to the bed and leans over me, his face inches from mine. “I had every right. I told you to run to me, and you did.”
“I was just checking?—”
“You were going to leave, but you came here instead. I also found this little toy.” He pulls out my waterproof green Rabbit vibrator.
A trapdoor opens in my belly, and my free hand darts out to grab the vibrator, but Rio moves it just out of reach. “Ah ah ah. If you really want it that bad, I can help you out, seeing how you’re a bit tied up at the moment.” He winks.
Not a bad idea.
Hell no!
He turns it over in his hands. “Where did you get this anyway? It’s not very life-like. A little small.”
Small? That thing is seven inches long! How is that small?!
“Oh my God! Just give it back!” I move for the vibrator again, but he holds it far enough away so I can’t get it.
“No. I think I’ll keep this safe for a little while longer.” His lips are almost touching mine. If only he’d move a little closer.
Then an image flashes in my mind. The sight of Rio with a knife standing over two men tied to metal chairs.
I recoil from him, and a hard look crosses his face. “One day, you won’t look at me like that.”
“You hurt them.”
“They were bad men and deserved what they got.”
“How can you say that?”
“Easily.” His voice is cold. “They’re the ones who shot up Abstract Dreams. They’re the ones who killed Lance.”
I gasp, and the color leaves my face. Does that mean they found Pierce too? Where Pierce is, Anthony is not far behind. Just the thought of Anthony in the same vicinity as Rio, Zane, and Asher is going to make me break out in hives.
But I can’t let Rio know anything is amiss . . .
I huff out a breath and attempt to cross my arms. A bit difficult when I have only one arm that can complete the motion.
“My friends are going to wonder where I am.”
Rio shrugs. “I texted them and told them you’re off finding inspiration for your exhibit.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I think I made it pretty clear that the exhibit is the last thing on my mind when I bought the damn bus ticket.” I sit a little taller. “Besides, you don’t have anyone’s number.”
“That’s what you think,” he scoffs. I raise an eyebrow in lieu of a verbal reply. “Okay, so I only have Hayes’s digits, but I’ll have everyone else’s soon. They love me.”
I don’t like that he’s right; all of my friends practically eat out of the palm of his hand.
“But that’s a nonissue because I didn’t use my phone. I used yours.”
“What!?” My eyes blink incredulously.
“You really should change your password on that thing. Zero-six-one-one? The day we met? Really?”
My nose scrunches, and my eyes squint as I attempt to do the math in my head, but I end up with a headache instead. “That’s not the day we met.”
“True, but don’t worry, I took care of that for you.”
Fucking hell. Now I’m going to have to figure out the day we met, which is in my calendar . . . in my phone, which I don’t have, and is now locked with a new password.
I roll my eyes at him and imagine punching him in the arm. I know it’s a bit juvenile, but there’s not much else I can do with literally one hand tied to the damn headboard.
Rio pulls out my phone from his other back pocket.
What else is he hiding back there?
“Speaking of your phone . . .” He rolls my phone around in his hands while he chooses his words carefully. “You didn’t tell me about the texts.”
Playing dumb has become my new m.o. so why give up now?
“What texts?”
“You know what texts I’m talking about. The ones from Anthony.”
I turn a cold eye on him. “Yes, I did. You’re my lawyer, remember?”
“I mean the last few you’ve gotten. Why didn’t you tell me?”
My lips roll inward as I keep my answer to myself. He won’t like what I have to say, especially after all three of them ganged up on me when Asher caught me trying to flee my apartment after the whole sand fiasco.
Yeah, that made it perfectly clear they’re a smidge overprotective.
Rio narrows his eyes, lets out a frustrated sigh, and releases me from the cuffs with a key. He gently massages my red wrist, and I don’t like how the action causes a fluttering in my belly. I’m not supposed to be yearning for his touch. I’m supposed to be trying to get away—far away.
He must see the indecision in my eyes because he leans back in. Right when I think he’s about to go for a repeat performance of our studio escapades, he lifts me to my feet and leads me to the en suite.
I wish I could report that the peeing chases away this aching need, but that’s not the case. I only get a temporary reprieve.
The thought of Rio, Zane, and Asher being complicit and actively participating in the death of those men terrifies me. I know what I saw; those images aren’t going away anytime soon. But burying my head in the sand isn’t an option here.
So why don’t those images do anything to kill my desire for my men?