Chapter Eight
Rainey
Large, painted eyes tracked me—watching. Judging.
Fed up, my hand shot out of the covers and twisted the lucky cat around. Why did Cairo keep that creepy thing on his nightstand? Who’d want that to be the first thing they saw when they woke up?
All right, maybe my problem wasn’t really with the cat, as it was those eyes kept asking me what I was doing here.
I was free of them. I could’ve made it to Chaney Bridge and been halfway to the next town while those guys were still stumbling through the woods. Free of Scott Cavendish, Sheriff Sharpe, and the new Letter Man. The Bedlam Boys were giving me a gift.
But a gift isn’t what I deserved.
The crushing, stomach-twisting guilt ate me at the very thought of packing up and starting over like nothing happened. Leaving Cairo and the boys to face suspicion over my crime. Keeping the Letter Man a secret in fear of my motives being discovered, while they’re free to torture someone else. If I picked a life of running, I’d never stop.
It wasn’t until Cairo caught me. Dominated me. Punished me, that I felt something else. Actually, I felt many things as my virginity was brutally taken from me. What I didn’t feel was guilty. For the first time since the arrow flew from my bow, I could breathe.
I betrayed Cairo, and he took what he wanted while giving me what I needed.
“We don’t get to decide, Rain. The chance will come to right your wrongs. It always does. For those who truly want to make amends, they won’t miss it.”
No, my ghostly apparitions didn’t count as Gran giving me advice. Even so, she said things like this my whole life.
“We don’t get to decide when we’re forgiven, Rainey.”
“It’s not a punishment if we choose how and when it’s over.”
Wisdom she dropped on me after petty fights with my sister, or the many times I complained about being grounded. Did they compare to murder and framing not-so-innocent men? Would she have given me the same advice about giving myself up to the man who repeatedly assaulted me and played out his rape fantasy in the woods? Not just him, all of his friends.
I knew what any sane person would say, and all I could reply in response is I don’t get to say when I’m forgiven.
I don’t choose my punishment.
I burrowed deeper in Cairo’s covers, inhaling the piney, spicy-sweet scent. I was brought here after a long, silent drive, during which the guys looked at me like I’d try to set someone else on fire at any moment.
They brought me straight up here. Legend checked me out, gave me a real sling and painkillers, then the lock clicked shut on my new prison. Yes, I’ve asked myself many times why Cairo’s room locked from the outside. Was he so dangerous even his housemates slept better when he was contained?
It was a question I planned to ask when he came to me. When any of them did. I sat in the room for hours, watching the sun come up from his bed, and no one came. Not so much as a whisper on the other side of the door.
I swept the space, taking in all that was Cairo. I didn’t get a proper look the first time I was here.
I missed the band posters on the wall. The pitch-black bedspread even softer than it looked. The waving lucky cat, and a collection of dream catchers covering an entire wall. They all said something about him, but did they say it as loud as the throbbing ache between my legs, or the blood that drained down his tub.
Shutting my eyes, I drew my legs to my chest, feeling him in every part of me. Here I am wondering who Cairo was, when I should be asking who the hell am I? He hurt me. Hit me. Shoved inside me without preparation or mercy.
I should hate Cairo Sharpe, and I did. I hated him for making me come.
My first orgasm that I didn’t give myself, and he exploded every one of my nerve endings, blowing a bomb in my mind.
The night before played on a loop, asking me if their ownership meant Cairo would hold me down and fuck me till I screamed every night. Would they all?
Wetness dampened my panties—bringing equal embarrassment and anticipation.
“Yes, cat,” I said. “I am fucked up.”
The doorknob rattled. I poked my head out of the sheets as Jacques came into the room. He shut the door behind him.
“What?” I sat up, scooting back against the headboard. Those mirrored eyes just watched me. “What do you want, Stone? Where’s Cairo?”
“Why?” he asked, tone measured. “Are you looking for a protector?”
“Do I need one?”
“Yes.”
The snappy comeback died on my lips. A yes to tease me, sure. A yes in such a matter-of-fact way, I didn’t have a reply for that.
“Get up. Come to me.”
I kept scooting, though there was nowhere for me to go. “No, I’m good here.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
“Frame it like one, so I can again say no.”
“De Souza.” He said my name like I was a naughty child. Jacques pointed to the floor in front of him. “Here. Now.”
“Oooh, I kinda want to see you make me,” I snapped.
Inexplicably, he grinned.
“What have they told you about me?” he asked.
“Who?”
“Paris Keller and her hair-flipping, perfumed horde. They are always clucking about something. I know I’ve come up.”
“Arrogant much? And clucking? Why, because women are chickens?”
“Women are cattle.”
I reeled back and he made a tss sound between his teeth.
“Don’t be offended. Men are cattle too,” he said. “Slow. Stupid. Driven by eating, shitting, and mating, and never considering their value to the world beyond that.”
“Douchebag,” I said clearly. “The hair-flipping horde warned me you were a douche.”
He closed the distance, advancing on the bed, then stepping around and moving to the window. I gathered the blankets tighter, heart thrumming as he closed the blinds.
“People don’t agree with their true designation, of course,” he continued. “You all believe your precious thoughts, opinions, and problems are unique. You, for example, put on a tough act to cover grief, loneliness, insecurity, and a touch of sadism.”
“I’m not sadistic.”
“You planned and carried out burning a man alive, and you enjoyed it. What would you call that?”
I pressed my lips together.
“Exactly. You’re all textbook,” he said. “Literally lines on a page explaining human behavior down to the last mommy issue. You never veer from the case studies. So, what will a blustering clucker do when I jump over this bed and make her face me?” He paused. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, de Souza. What will you do?”
“Break your nose.”
“I say you’ll do absolutely nothing. If you could truly face up to someone stronger than you, Cavendish’s eyes would’ve crossed staring down your arrow. Instead, you struck from the shadows and shifted the blame on us.”
“Stone, I appreciate that a high IQ left you with a low EQ. Everything you know about people and social interaction, you read in a book,” I said. “Sad, but there’s one thing I can promise you. You don’t understand what happened that night between me and Caven—”
“He challenged you to find and stop him before he killed Jennifer Wilson,” Jacques sliced in. “Don’t look so surprised. We read your suicide note.”
Of course. I guess I did put enough pieces in that they added up to that conclusion.
“If you discovered some random person was plotting to kill an innocent woman, you would’ve reported it to the police, and warned her Scott Cavendish was after her. Neither of those things happened. Instead, Jennifer Wilson was surprised to wake up in a freezer one night, and even more surprised to be rescued.
“You knew she was in danger, but by threat or coercion, could not report it. Aligning with society’s moral code, you could not let her die if there was something you could do to stop it. You killed Cavendish, rescued Jennifer, and laid the trail to someone else.
“My only question is, how did you get involved? Choosing a worthy opponent and taunting them to catch before they kill again is a classic serial killer profile. They get off on staying ahead of the chase just as much as they do the killing. But they usually choose cops, detectives, or journalists. Maximize the chance of their cleverness broadcasted on the media. They don’t go for farm girls. What makes you so special?”
I looked away. Great question. Let me know when you have the answer.
“Did you come in here to tell me this?” I asked.
“I’m here to make something clear to you.” Jacques bore down on me. “The single thing cattle have in their favor is they can be trained. They do something they shouldn’t, you take out the cattle prod, and the message sinks in. Maybe not the first or fifth time, but inevitably—”
Jacques snaked an arm around my waist. He didn’t grab or force. He simply slid me out of bed and dropped me on my feet before him—as ordered.
“Inevitably, they learn.”
I hardly heard him, or the contempt lacing his words.
Up close, Jacques Stone was more coldly beautiful than ten feet away, or one foot from my seat in class. Chin pressed to his chest, I skimmed his cheeks for a trace of a blemish, large pores, or one slight imperfection to tear him down and bring Jacques to earth with the rest of the mortals.
But no. His skin was flawless, and the shadow’s beard darkening his jaw appeared too soft to resist stroking. So, I didn’t.
I traced his jawline—dipping with his cleft chin and continuing my path to his lips. Sense stopped me just short.
I peeked at Jacques. He displayed no reaction to me touching him.
“You live here now,” he said. “You will obey our rules.”
“Rules?”
“You do not go where you’re not wanted. You don’t touch what’s not yours. No talking back. No disrespect. No false bravado unless you want your bluff called—mercilessly.”
Jacques took my hand and placed it on his lips. I felt every horrible word fall from them.
“When you’re told to do something, you will obey without argument. You do not share what goes on in this house with anyone. What’s between us is between us.”
“Us?” I whispered.
“You’re our girl now,” he dropped like it was a fact of life. “Quinn is out. Now there’s you.”
“Your girl. Mind, soul, and... body.”
“Yes.”
I brushed the sharp ridge of his nose, continuing to his brows. Impossibly long lashes tickled me as he blinked.
“I wouldn’t have thought you wanted either,” I said. “You seemed a bit ticked off about the surprise shower in the middle of class.”
“Yes.”
The slight smile froze on my face. “But you’re over it, right? Chasing me through the forest and scaring the shit out of me makes up for it. We can move on to bigger things.”
“No.”
A flush crept up my neck. “Put it down to not being a genius, but I’m going to need more than one-word replies to understand what you’re getting at.”
“I see. Then, let me be clear. You haven’t made up for your unfortunate choices that morning. I planned to handle it Ruckus night, but instead you handled us.”
I lowered my hand, taking a step back.
“Another unfortunate choice, and this one with bigger consequences. After your shoulder heals, I’ll deliver those consequences.”
“Why after my shoulder heals?”
He cocked a brow. “Would you prefer I do it now?”
Heat stained my cheeks. “What are the consequences? What exactly are you going to do to me?”
“Cairo’s in the process of setting up your space,” he said, ignoring the questions. “You’ll stay in this room till he’s done.”
“My space? Did you guys get my things from the farm?”
“We have everything you need.”
“Why am I locked in here? I chose to come with you guys. I’m not going to run.”
“Why is that?” His tone sharpened. “We had little chance of catching up to you, despite Cairo’s plans to catch you on the bridge. You were free of us, and yet you handed yourself over on a platter. Explain.”
I grinned. “Huh. Well, isn’t this interesting.”
“What?”
“You really don’t know, do you?” I laughed. “None of you do. You spent all last night in the living room, arguing about what the farm girl is up to.
“Even better, Jacques Stone, the cattle wrangler, has no idea why I hopped in that truck.” I leaned in, whispering against his lips. “I guess I’m not so textbook after all.”
His cool, if narrowed, gaze surveyed me. “Eight.”
I brushed past him and slid into bed. “I’m cool to stay in here till you set up my digs. It’s much nicer than my last place. Oh, and I’ll take breakfast while you’re at it.”
“Nine.”
Jacques left me with that and returned me to my locked solitude. I suspected I’d soon find out why he was counting up. Nothing would be able to help me then.
ARSENIO
Jacques climbed off the stairs.
“Well?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No explanation for why she chose us. Accurately, she found the question amusing.”
“What business have we had with the de Souzas?” Roan asked. “If she’s up there plotting to slit our throats while we’re sleeping, I’d at least like to know why.”
“She looks familiar,” Legend said. “I think Dad did business with her grandmother. He did with most of the local farms.”
“Did he screw her over?”
“If he did, it would’ve been my wallet under that container.”
Our attention shifted to Cairo, who reclined feet up on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch, digging through the bags we went back and took from the old farmhouse.
“It’s me she has the problem with,” Cairo said. “Or I should say, with the sheriff. She hasn’t come clean, but I’ve seen that look. She hates him.”
“There it is,” Roan said. “So, that’s why she came back. She wasn’t leaving till she got another chance at fucking over the sheriff.”
“Possibly.”
“You’re not worried?”
He mouth-shrugged without stopping in his task. “Enemy of my enemy, as they say.”
“The sheriff’s not the enemy,” I said. Funny how we’d all taken to speaking of Cairo’s father by title. We’ve known the man our whole lives—which had something to do with it.
“Wasn’t talking about him.”
I inclined my head, letting the matter drop. “What’s she got?”
“Nothing.” Cairo fished out an album. “Clothes, books, toothbrush. The regular stuff. She’s got a laptop. It’s not password protected, but she deleted the search history. Everything else on there are old school assignments. No weapons. No notebooks with our names scribbled a thousand times.”
“But she killed Cavendish.”
“Yes, there is that.”
Our gaze shifted again—peering through the ceiling at the surprisingly attractive little assassin, kicking back in Cairo’s room.
“Old history makes no difference,” I said. “She’s our girl now. Her days of plotting against us are over.”
“She won’t be easy to break,” Cairo said. “Rain took my cock like a good girl, then she took a crossbow to my head. She’s going to make this interesting for us.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said. “Now on to shit that matters. Roan, did you find out who those guys were that hijacked that party?”
“Nah.” He flopped down next to Cairo. “I asked around. They’re not from Bedlam. No one knows who they are, or they’re not saying.”
“Think they’re connected to Foundry?” Legend asked.
“I’ll assume everyone is until we root those bastards out.”
“These guys are smart,” he said under his breath. “Who knows how many people they got to before we heard their name. We’re running out of money, but if we up payments in retaliation, it’ll just drive more people to them. We can’t do this on our own.”
“We have to, sweet cheeks,” Roan said. “She’s not going to help us.”
“Arsenio,” Legend began.
“No,” I said. “Don’t bother asking. She’s opting for plausible deniability. As long as she doesn’t know shit, she can’t get taken down for it. Besides, she’s blaming us for letting the problem get out of hand in the first place. These guys moved in on our turf and we didn’t know a fucking thing. Ruckus Royale is further proof we’re losing our grip.
“Those guys knew to find us at Westchester Drumlins. They knew who we were and what we do, and we can’t dig up their damn names.” I leaned back against the counter, folding my hands across my stomach lest they found something to punch. It was times like this I needed stress relief. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on who you asked, Quinn was out and the new girl wasn’t ready for me. I didn’t do the breaking.
My methods were outlawed.
“We’re on our own,” I said, finally stating what we all knew. “Ideas?”
“We can’t up payments?” Legend asked.
“No.”
“We’re locked out of the databases.”
“Yes,” Roan confirmed. “Oooh, nice bikini.”
He plucked a photo from the album, unzipped his pants, and fisted his cock. I slid to Cairo as he jacked off.
“Then, it’s simple,” Legend said. “If diplomacy doesn’t work, we switch to violence.”
“We would’ve chosen that option a... long time ago, sweets— ahh.” Roan tossed his head back, moaning. “But, we don’t know who to take the fight to.”
“The fight’s coming to us now.” Jacques finally added his opinion. “Don’t have enough information to say if those guys from the party were with Foundry, but they have it in their head they’re taking over our town. While they’re happy to come to us, we start with them.”
I nodded. “The sheriff,” I said to Cairo. “He’s questioning the crashers about Cavendish. We need to know what he finds out.”
“We will.” He dropped his feet on the floor. “In the meantime, we have a guest. Our focus is on making her stay as comfortable as possible.”
Again, I said nothing as he headed up the stairs. There was no point getting in Cairo’s way when he had that look on his face.
RAINEY
One week.
One week since the Bedlam Boys brought me back to their frat-boy home. One week I’d been kept in Cairo’s room with minimal contact with any one of them. My food was placed on a tray they set just inside the door. Jacques stopped by every day to check my shoulder, ignoring questions of when I’d be let out and my demands to go to class.
All I got was a, “your classes have been taken care of,” and nothing else.
Cairo didn’t come to me. Arsenio didn’t so much as cough outside my door. Roan stuck his head in once when delivering my tray. Licking his lips, he blew me a kiss and ducked out.
I snuggled into Cairo’s pillow, watching a Golden Girls rerun on TV. It was losing the smell of him and starting to smell like me. Even though I was bathing with Cairo’s body wash. It wasn’t the same.
Roan came in with another tray. “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
He pointed. I followed his line of sight to my sling, lying innocently at the foot of the bed.
“Just as well,” he said. “We were starting to get impatient.”
I snatched it up, though it was far too late.
“Impatient for what?”
“For you, Rainey de Souza.” He grabbed my neck, yanking me to him. Roan’s hot, wet tongue licked my cheek. “I’ve been waiting for my taste.”
“Yeah.” I flung away from him. “I’ve been told I’m your girl now. So far, that looks like lying around and being waited on hand and foot. That’ll teach me to listen to small-town gossip. Your reputation is blown way out of proportion.”
Cardinal curls danced with his laugh. What I mistook for a slender body from a distance, transformed into the hard, discrete muscles of a swimmer.
“You don’t ride a wounded horse, sweets. Now that you’re all fixed up, you’ll take your rightful place with the guys. Me, on the other hand, I’m a bit choosier about my playmates. Hold out your hand.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Cautiously, I raised my hand, palm up. Roan moved quicker than I could react.
A flash of silver and sharp pain blossomed in my finger.
“Ow!”
“Shh,” he crooned.
Blood pebbled from the pinprick wound. Wide eyes trailed the knife to his lips where flinty green orbs trapped them. Roan licked the knife’s edge, and I gasped, stunned at the cut he sliced into his own tongue. He lifted my hand.
“Roan, no...”
He sucked me into his mouth, bobbing up and down to the knuckle. It was the most erotic thing a man had ever done to me. My nipples were so hard, they could’ve popped off my breasts and made little tick, tick, ticks as they bounced across the floor.
“Hmm.” His moan turned the heat on deep inside me. “We taste sweet together, baby. You try.”
It wasn’t a conscious decision. One moment, we were separated by a foot of distance, the next I was crawling on my knees toward him—pulled in by that devil’s grin.
I slid my hands over his pecs, hesitantly like he may stop me. Instead, Roan cupped the back of my neck, drawing our lips to meet.
Kissing Roan Banks was nothing like kissing Cairo. Cairo was roving beasts, wildfires, lightning storms, and forces you couldn’t hope to control.
But Roan, he was that piece of chocolate cake that wrecked your diet. He was sneaking and opening your Christmas presents early. Secret flings with that guy you know you’re not supposed to be with. Slipping the odd thing or two in your pocket under watch of the security cameras.
Everything wrong and sinful in this world, distilled into one deep, plundering kiss, and topped with the sharp metallic taste of our blood. Did it taste particularly sweet? Couldn’t say. All I knew was Roan for fuck sure did.
I melted into the kiss, moaning as Roan deepened it.
Something pressed against my side.
He broke away, grinning that grin. “I said I do my own vetting. You’ve definitely got the wanton slut vibe I go for. You don’t even know me and you’re licking me up like the last squirt of cream.”
I might’ve pushed, slapped, or shoved away from him. If it wasn’t for the blade digging above my hip—held back by a single layer of cloth.
“Turn around.”
I did, putting my back to him. The knife moved with me.
Roan leaned me against him and propped his chin on my shoulder. “Cairo said he claimed your virginity. Is that true?”
I nodded.
“Just how fresh and unspoiled are you, Rainey D? Anyone spread those ass cheeks and plunder for gold?”
My face burned. “No.”
“What about these juicy little treats?” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “How many cocks had the pleasure? How many pussies?”
“Stop it,” I hissed.
“Oh, am I embarrassing you? That’s too cute.”
“It’s none of your business.”
Roan gathered my shirt from neck to hem and sliced it in one stroke. The tatters slipped off my shoulders, revealing my complete lack of underwear. Cairo hadn’t seen fit to return my clothes. I’d been making do with his, and his briefs didn’t fit.
“There’s nothing about you that’s not our business.” He cupped my breast, flattening the blade against my nipple. I wanted to believe he wouldn’t cut me, but he already did. “You’re going to tell me everything, de Souza, starting with... what was it like?”
“What was what like?” I gripped his hips, digging in to be painful, though he didn’t react. Roan shifted to cradle me against his collarbone. The smell of honeysuckle shampoo floated in my nose.
“Killing Cavendish.”
I stiffened.
“Be honest.”
“It was awful,” I snapped. “The worst thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.”
“I told you to be honest.”
The knife dropped on the sheets. Roan found a new thing to fondle.
I bit hard on my lip as two fingers slipped past my folds.
“The awful part wasn’t killing him. It was enjoying it. Tell me what it was like.” Fervor leeched into the whisper. “The moment the arrow left the bow, soaring for its target.”
He moved inside me, palm rubbing firm on my clit. Electricity zipped up my veins.
“What did you do when the container exploded and engulfed the murdering shit in flames? The truth, baby.” Roan picked up speed.
“Ahh,” I cried, arching my back.
“Did you tease this sweet pussy like I am?”
“No.”
“Yes,” he hissed. “You had the best orgasm of your life that night. Admit it.”
“No! It wasn’t like that. That wasn’t what I meant—”
“I know exactly what you meant. That was the first time in your pathetic life you had a taste of power.” Roan’s tone changed in a snap. “You weren’t just the farm girl mucking around in chicken shit, or another orphan everyone forgot about.”
“Roan,” I cried.
“What? Am I wrong?” He grasped my chin, twisting my neck to face him. The other hand didn’t stop its activities for a second. “You lived in this town your whole life and no one knows who the fuck you are. No one cares. No wonder you made yourself a hemp necklace and went for a dive.”
“Shut up!”
“You felt your first taste of importance while you watched the flesh melt off his skull—”
“I said shut up, Roan.” I snatched his wrist, trying to pull him out of me.
“But after he was dead, what did you have? Nothing.” Each horrible word pelted me like machine-gun fire. Every one a fatal blow. “Your sister still fucked off and abandoned you. Granny died to free herself from the burden of you. Did she hang herself too? Is that where you got the—”
Whipping around, I smacked him across the face. The blow snapped his neck—knocking him back and freeing me from his hold.
“Don’t you ever! Ever! Talk about my grandmother.”
Roan spun around, eyes flashing. He launched at me.
“Crazy, sadistic asshole,” I screamed.
We scrapped like WWE fighters. Roan pinned my arms over my head, sinking a knee on my thigh. I broke free and backhanded him across the face.
“I got it right, didn’t I?” His laugh bordered on insane. “Gammy left via razor blade and now you’re all alone. Oooh, poor baby. Did Mommy and Daddy kill themselves to get away from you too? Their birth-control-fail mistake.”
“Ahh!” Surging up, I drove my skull into his nose.
“Fuck!”
Dazed and in pain, he couldn’t stop my next hit.
I tackled him around the middle and threw him back on the bed. Scrambling up his body, I straddled him as my hands closed on his neck.
“Take it back!” Scorching, incendiary fury burned every trace of me down to the last molecule. “Take it back, you fucking monster!”
I squeezed tighter, popping his eyes from their sockets. Roan gagged, hand flying to grip my wrist. He knocked something aside, and there was the knife.
I grabbed and pressed it to his cheek. Leaning over him, I hissed in his face, “Say you’re sorry.”
Roan’s mouth worked. He strained to get it out. “Do... it,” he gasped. “Do it, you gorgeous, crazy fucking thing. You know you want to.”
Surprise broke through my rage, then he did.
Roan dipped inside my pussy again, setting a furious pace. Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap.
“Come on. Hurt me, baby.”
Yes, in that moment, it did cross my mind that I had lost complete control of my life. I didn’t know who I was, or what the hell I was doing, but I did know this: I really, really wanted to.
The tip split his skin, coming apart as a seam, and my hand drawing red ribbons down his cheek. Roan groaned—a glare of such ecstasy on his face, it undid me.
“Say you’re sorry,” I repeated. I moved the knife beneath his collarbone. “And mean it.”
“I’m sorry.” Roan let go of my wrist, leaving me to choke him as I saw fit. I heard the zipper yanked down to free his cock. “Course I’m sorry.”
I cut a slow, steady line down his chest. “More.”
“Your parents are freaking saints. Songs should be written about them. Let us bow down and worship at their statues for bringing you into this world.”
I rocked back on his fingers. I couldn’t help it. Roan had found a particularly interesting spot and was hitting it relentlessly.
Blood poured from his wound. A shallow cut that dripped uneven red lines down his chest like running paint.
“May your grandmother rest in peace,” he continued. “I know she was a strong, fierce woman who raised you to be nothing less. She’d be proud of who you are, Rainey de Souza. A woman who doesn’t let anything or anyone get in her way.”
The room was thick with our moans and the heady sounds of us getting off. My lower belly was tightening. Orgasm was swelling fast. I bounced faster on the balls of my feet, eager to bring her on.
“She’d be proud of what you did,” Roan gruffed, “so don’t feel an ounce of guilt. What you did was divine, baby. You’re a damn goddess.”
I seized—body jerking as an orgasm the likes of which could put me in the hospital, hooked and dragged me under.
“Not,” I rasped, “good enough.”
Holding the knife above his hip, I reared up and stabbed.
“Argh!” Roan bellowed, arching off the bed. Cum exploded on my back.
“Holy fuck,” he cried. Blood poured from the cut, soaking us in ichor and cum.
I collapsed on him, falling boobs-first on his face. My strength leaked out, leaving me a boneless, sated mess of limbs and sweat.
“Oh, yeah,” Roan said. He slid me down, pressing his already hardening cock to my entrance. “You’ll do just fine.”
“Wow.”
The dry voice snapped my head up.
“Can’t get a show like that on Pornhub.” Cairo leaned against the door. Who knew how long he’d been standing there. “Rain, come.”
I didn’t think twice. I clambered off the bed and ran to him, burrowing my face in his back. That spicy pine scent enveloped me as I did Cairo, hugging him from behind.
“Didn’t miss me too much,” he breezed. “Made yourself right at home.
“You,” he said to Roan. “I told you to quit coming on my sheets.”
“Don’t blame me.” Roan stretched like a lazy cat. “She did it.”
“Then, she’ll be punished for it,” Cairo replied, peeling my hands off. “Let’s go. I worked all week to get everything ready for you. You can finally move out of this room.”
Cairo stepped out, holding the door for me to follow.
I quickly grabbed a shirt and baggy sweatpants from his closet. Cairo led me down the hall. If he felt my eyes drilling a hole in his head, he didn’t give a sign.
“I’m going to class tomorrow,” I said. “I can’t miss any more.”
“Your lockdown is lifted. You can come and go as we please.”
“What does that mean? That I need your permission?”
“You catch on quick.”
I grabbed his shirt, stopping him before the stairs. Cairo twisted, gazing down at the appendage holding him back and wondering what the hell it was doing there.
“Why haven’t I seen you all week?” My grip tightened. “Are you mad at me?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” He gestured to the bruise on his forehead that shifted away from purple and blue, and was now a sickly yellow.
“I did what I had to do to get away. You would’ve done the same.”
“The lists of things I’m allowed to do without retribution is much longer than yours.”
“That’s a ridiculous double standard.”
He laughed. “Isn’t it?”
I pushed down on my temper. “You can’t just take someone’s virginity and then ignore them for days. Who taught you manners?”
“No one, sadly. Daddy worked all day. Mommy ran off.” Winking, he grinned. “You know how it is.”
“Then, you need someone to teach you.”
“Oh?” Cairo advanced on me, flattening me against the wall. “Are you going to teach me manners, Rain?”
“I’ll give it my best shot.”
He nipped my lips. The quickest kiss—over as soon as it started. “You first,” he said. “On your knees.”
“Kiss me first. Properly.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
“Please.” I kissed the corner of his mouth, chin, nose, and everywhere. It wasn’t too much to ask that the man who claimed more of my firsts than he was entitled to, should give me a single kiss that wasn’t forced or stolen. “Please, Cairo. Kiss me.”
Cairo complied. He swiped the roof of my mouth. The tickle made me start, and he caught my tongue on its skittish retreat, drawing it back to play.
I untethered from him, breathless and dizzy.
“Ugh,” he said, dragging me down to earth. “You taste like Roan.”
“And you know what he tastes like?” I flung.
“I know I told you to get on your knees.”
Sliding down the wall, I landed softly, crossing my legs at the ankles.
“Truth is, I have missed you.” Cairo brushed my mussed hair from my eyes. “Been thinking about nothing but that tight pussy. You know, it took me a whole day to finally wash your blood off my cock. What can I say? I’m a sentimental guy.”
Cairo caressed my mouth. “We didn’t get to finish what we started. And these tasty lips have been begging for me. Haven’t they?”
I bobbed my head.
“Aching for me to force through your lips, and fuck your mouth till you choke on my cock.”
I nodded harder.
“Say it,” he ordered.
“I want you to fuck my mouth, Cairo,” I said it, though it heated my skin. “Make me... choke on your cum.”
“Hmm. Well, if you want it that badly, I can’t do it. Why should you be rewarded after this?”
He motioned to his bruise, and I understood at once what he was driving at.
He wants me to apologize. Beg and plead for forgiveness after he had me like an animal in the woods.
I lifted my chin and took Cairo’s thumb in my mouth. I looked him in the eyes as I swallowed him, pulling back with a pop.
“You probably shouldn’t,” I said, “since I’m not in the least bit sorry. But we both know you will because you can’t resist this mouth. It’s in your dreams, Sharpe.”
He released a low, labored hiss. “Fuck, the things I’m going to do to you.” Cairo leaned down and poured the words directly into my soul. “I’m going to tear you apart.”
I rose up, seeking his kiss. Cairo was gone.
“But not today,” he said, descending the stairs. “Some other time when you’re not covered in the blood, sweat, and cum of another man.”
I bit my lip to pen in a harsh response. Cairo gleefully announced I’d be their shared treat, but somehow, I was also being punished for it.
Get used to it, Rainey. They rigged this game for you to lose. Every move would always be the wrong one. Every word a mark for sentencing.
“Till then, I’ve got this little lovely as the perfect ringtone.” Cairo held his phone over his head, playing it as he descended. “I want you to fuck my mouth, Cairo. Make me choke on your cum.”
“Asshole,” I said under my breath.
“Let’s go.”
“What’s my room like?” I asked, clambering down the stairs. “Does my door lock from the outside too?”
“Course not.”
“Good.”
Cairo slipped his hand in mine, surprising me—in a good way.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I continued. “I made my choice.”
“So did I.”
The two of us entered the living room, walking in on Arsenio, Jacques, Legend, and the living room’s newest addition.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Your room, obviously.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Pushed into the corner between the couch and fireplace was a large red doghouse. And if there was any confusion, hanging above the circular entrance was a sign saying “Rain.”
“You can’t be serious,” I breathed.
“Where else would you sleep?” Legend asked. “Beds aren’t for pets, love.”
I got closer, eyeing the thing in disbelief. Maybe I should’ve been thankful they put in some effort to make it comfortable. A blue dog bed was stuffed inside and covered with a blanket.
Wait?I squinted. Is that...?
I reached in and pulled out a shiny pink collar.
“No. Fuck no!”
“You’re hurting my feelings, Rain.” Cairo’s wicked smirk said nothing of the sort. “I put a lot of effort into making this perfect for you.”
“Fuck you.” I flung the collar across the room.
“Ten,” said Jacques.
“Fuck you too!”
“Eleven.”
“You will sleep in your house like a good pet,” Cairo said. “Good girls get treats. Bad girls—” He tsked, shaking his head. “But you’re not going to be a bad girl, are you, Rain?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“The cell you picked out for us.” Arsenio’s deep voice dispersed through the room. “Wasn’t much bigger.”
I pressed my lips together, shaking.
“Better,” Jacques said.
I flipped him off.
“Twelve.”
“Take off my clothes,” Cairo said. “You have your own.”
“Where is my stuff? I want my laptop and phone too.”
Arsenio nodded at Legend. The raven-haired Adonis rounded the kitchen counter and returned loaded with shopping bags. “Hope you like them.” He winked. “We picked it out ourselves.”
“What is this?” I didn’t touch the bags. “I have clothes.”
“No, you don’t,” Cairo said. “I tossed out the farm-girl chic. I warned you about shit that reminds me of what kept us apart.”
“That was both disturbingly possessive and insane. They’re just clothes, Cairo. My clothes.” I squared him down, folding my arms. “I want them back.”
“I don’t think you do. I shredded them before they were deposited in the nearest dumpster.” He pointed. “You wear these, or you go naked. Never say we don’t empower you to make your own choices.”
My nails pierced my arms. It was incredible to me that I believed for a second there was a special connection between me and Cairo. With the other guys, I had no illusions that they just wanted to punish me. The only thing they knew about me was I nearly got them locked up as accessories to murder—although Roan seemed fond of me now.
With Cairo, I thought it was different. I said no to him. I challenged him. Fought him. I was tied to him by fate. He was supposed to want more from me than revenge.
“Don’t fall for it. Cairo Sharpe is many things, but a wounded bird is not one of them.”
“You tried to warn me.”
“What was that?” Legend asked.
“I said, what did you buy me?”
“Everything you need for all occasions.”
I took the clothes out of the bags one by one. They were looking for a reaction, so I refused to give them one. Despite wanting to throw up.
“These are all lingerie and club dresses,” I said evenly.
“School clothes.” Cairo held up a tight, slinky black, sleeveless dress. “Home clothes.” A purple lace bra hung off his finger. He tossed it at me. “Put it on.”
I tossed it back. “No. I’ll wear the dress.”
“Didn’t you hear me? The dress is for when we go out.” Cairo stroked my cheek. “Can’t have you looking less than perfect, pet. But now, we’re home, and these are your clothes.”
Glaring at the dental floss called sleepwear, I said, “I might as well be naked.”
“You can be.”
And they win either way.
I shifted to each of them. Roan too when he came in, bandaged from cheek to hip, and looking plenty proud of himself.
“Let me stay in this,” I said. No, I asked. Like the whimpering bitch they wanted me to be, I was asking for permission. “Don’t you like me in your clothes?”
I reached for Cairo and kneaded his temples. Firm, slow circles to bring him to me.
A strange sort of frozen expression crossed his face. He gave me a look like he didn’t know me and shot away.
“No.” He was angry. “I like you not wearing clothes at all, and that’s about to be your only fucking option. What’s it going to be, Rain? ’Cause my clothes are coming off if I’ve got to tear them off myself.”
There was no point in arguing with him. In full view of my pleased captors, I stripped off the shirt and sweats. Digging through the pile, I fished out the least revealing pair. A two-tone silk top with matching bikini bottom that covered a quarter of my ass cheeks.
“Final touch.”
Roan tossed Cairo the collar. My lips peeled back as he approached.
“No biting,” he said, winking at me.
This isn’t a battle worth fighting. I can always take the damn thing off when they leave. And, I don’t get to choose my punishment.
I ran a finger down Cairo’s arm as he fastened my mark of ownership around my neck.
I didn’t decide. These wild, dangerous men did. In exchange, I atoned for my crimes, and the ones to come.
Impossible to believe now that I sought to find a way out by killing myself. Gran would never have whispered that option in my ear—the real or imagined. She always told me to fight. Reminded me the blood of revolutionaries burned in my veins. And finally, I understood what I had to do, and naturally it came from the mouth of a genius.
“Choosing a worthy opponent and taunting them to catch before they kill again is a classic serial killer profile. They get off on staying ahead of the chase just as much as they do the killing. But they usually choose cops, detectives, or journalists. Maximize the chance of their cleverness broadcasted on the media. They don’t go for farm girls. What makes you so special?”
Obviously, I’d been asking myself why the Letter Man chose me from the very beginning, but I didn’t stop to think what him choosing me really meant.
If Scott wanted the glory of the hunt, why didn’t he post his letter to the local PI? If he wanted to die, why not choose someone with a badge and gun who’d take him out as a public service?
But then, I didn’t need to ask why he didn’t choose those people. Cavendish said himself that this was all about me.
Not infamy. Not glory. Not the joy of holding a town’s fear in his grip. The last letter said this wasn’t the first time they killed, but it was the first time it was personal. I had to find out why.
There had been three tragedies in my otherwise happy, normal life. Losing my parents when I was three. The knockdown, drag-out fight between me and Ivy that sent my sister packing and ruined our relationship. And last, the circumstances that led to that fight, our grandmother’s death.
I know what happened to her, and I knew the enemies I made in the wake of losing her. But Scott Cavendish wasn’t one of them. I never met the guy before I spied him across the street. Ivy’s tales of his exploits with Douglas Herbert were as far as he penetrated my radar. He had nothing to do with my life, and he wasn’t involved with my gran’s death.
So why did he look at me, sneer dripping with hatred, when he said it was his honor to die in the name of destroying me?
A stabbing pain pierced my temples. I massaged them the way I did for Cairo.
Thinking about this spun my mind in circles. Everything was telling me there’s no reason Scott Cavendish and his friend should’ve targeted me.
But they did. So, everything I knew was wrong.
I’m here. The Bedlam Boys stopped me. They brought me here, where if it’s not completely safe, I’m still no longer living in an abandoned farmhouse or dank motel room while a new, unpredictable threat is after me.
Jacques said there’s a classic serial killer profile, which meant something nudged Cavendish outside of it. I was asking the right questions now. Searching the right path. It would lead me to the answers to end this once and for all—without killing or anyone getting hurt.
I let Cairo guide me to my knees.
This is where I need to be.
“To your bed.”
I crawled inside. It was a tight squeeze. I lay at a ninety-degree angle, shoving my head in the corner to let my legs stretch as far as they could.
Cairo stuck his hand inside. The shout wasn’t out of my mouth before the metal hooked my collar, chaining me to the doghouse.
“Cairo!”
“Night, Rain.”
The lights went off one after the other, surrendering me to the dark.