“You’ll stay in here. The door locks, you can’t get out. You’ll have everything you need, and I’ll use you as I see fit.”
Use me?
He obviously sees the confusion on my face.
“Don’t flatter yourself, girl. I mean I will use you to piece together my plan. You’ll give me information. You will accompany me anyplace I need to go, because I don’t trust anyone but myself. I won’t have you escaping.”
Great.
I place my hands on my hips. “I have nowhere to escape to. In case you didn’t notice, I lived on a ship. Maybe you never questioned it, but there’s usually a reason a girl like me is on a ship away from land.”
He narrows his eyes. “Girls like you are on those ships for one reason and one reason only; we both know what that is.”
Oh.
He.
Did.
Not.
“I beg your pardon?” I whisper, feeling my hands shaking.
“Pirates like Hendrix don’t keep women on their ships. There’s only one purpose for them, and that’s to fuck.”
I feel my body begin to quake. He has no idea. No idea that I never, not once, fucked one person on Hendrix’s ship. He has no idea that I have never willingly had sex. He has no idea that the idea of being called someone’s whore is enough to break every strength I’ve built up inside me.
“You. Know. Nothing. About. Me,” I bite out.
His eyes flare. “I know enough.”
“You’re so cocky, aren’t you?” I snap. “So damned sure of yourself. You think you know how this is going to go down. You think you have picked the right person to make Hendrix come to you. If I’m just a whore, asshole, then what purpose would he have to come after me?”
His face tightens and he lashes out, curling his fingers around my shoulder. He hurls me close, lifting me off the ground so I’m dangling in front of him.
“I’ve had enough of your loud mouth. This is your last warning, girl. Shut it or I’ll shut it for you.”
I launch my knee up, hitting him right in the groin. It’s a surprise attack, but it works. He drops me and I tumble to the ground. He takes two steps back, his eyes wide with rage and his mouth tight with pain. I spin on my heel, and come crashing into two hard forms. I scream with frustration and kick out, but it’s pointless. The tall dark man has my shoulders and, in his grips, I can’t move.
Dimitri storms over, taking hold of me and spinning me around. “Will you not learn?” he demands.
He nods to the tall dark man, and in a second I find myself being dragged to the bed. The man drops me onto it, and lifts my arms, raising them above my head and handcuffing me to the headboard.
I lose it.
The feeling of being tied and restrained has everything coming back. It has all those fears I had locked away raising their ugly heads. I scream loudly, and twist my body, trying to avoid his grasps as he takes my ankles.
“Let me go,” I screech. “Please don’t tie me up. Please, I’m begging you. I’m sorry, please let me go.”
Tears tumble down my cheeks, and I close my eyes, shoving back the memories that threaten to rise.
“Stop screaming. If you scream, I’ll only make it hurt.”
I shake my head from side to side, murmuring words I don’t even understand. I tug my wrists—nothing. I tug my ankles—nothing. I screech again, pleading, begging, knowing that I make no sense.
“Silence,” Dimitri orders.
“Please,” I sob. “Don’t tie me up. Please don’t tie me up.”
He begins to walk toward me, his expression angry, when I growl, “Don’t come near me. Please, not while I’m restrained. Don’t. Please. Don’t.”
His eyes flicker with something I don’t recognize. It’s almost like . . . he understands.
“I told you what would happen if you tried to escape,” he hisses, clenching his fists like he’s trying to hold back.
“Please, I won’t do it again. I beg of you, undo me. Please.”
“I can’t do that,” he says in a hoarse whisper before turning and walking toward the door.
“Please!” I scream so loudly it hurts my own ears. “Don’t do this to me. I can’t breathe like this. Please . . . don’t . . . don’t tie me . . . please . . . I’ll do anything, just don’t tie me.”
His body flinches, but he doesn’t turn back. He simply orders the two men to watch me, and then he steps out and slams the door.
And I break down.
CHAPTER THREE
Dimitri
I can hear her screaming, and the sound pierces my heart. I want to fuckin’ go in there and stuff something in her mouth, but more than that, something inside me is urging me to let her go. The screams, they’re not just those of a prisoner. I’ve had prisoners, and this one is different. She’s not afraid; she’s been strong, and tough, and mouthy. Then I tied her.
And she broke.
Like me.
Broken.
Was it that bastard Hendrix? Did he hurt her? Rape her? Tie her in a cell? Is that why she’s so afraid? Her cries are those of a damaged person. Of a person who has lived through that kind of soul-crushing pain. Her eyes were frantic, darting around, pleading with me to let her go. I wanted to, for a small moment, but then I remembered why I have her, and I knew I had to walk away.
I can’t grow soft.
It’s not an option.
I close my eyes, lifting my crystal glass to my lips and shooting back the straight whiskey. Fuck her for making me question myself on the first day. That’s what she’s done. She made me question this entire plan. She’s not his lover—that much I have figured out. But she’s important to him; I saw it in his eyes. She’s not his kid, she’s too old. Maybe she’s a niece, or a friend. There’s a story there, a story that has made a connection.
I will play on that connection.
I turn and storm across the room, walking to the window and opening it. I shove my face out and try to control my breathing the best I can. I push the panic down, the seizing feeling in my chest, the way my head spins, the way my breathing suddenly becomes difficult. Fuckin’ control it, Dimitri. Don’t break now. You’re better than this, stronger than this. You can’t let this shit beat you.
Goddammit.
I can’t let them win.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jess
My wrists are bleeding, I’m exhausted, and there are no tears left; yet I’m still tugging. Still pulling my wrists with a desperation that is consuming me. The more I think about it, the more panicked I become. I tug and I tug, frantic to release myself. I can’t stay like this—if I do, I’ll go crazy. I can’t stand being restrained.
“If you pull those restraints again, I’ll flog you so hard you won’t walk.”
My foster father, Roger, used to make a point of tying me up. At the very thought of him, my body shudders. Nothing in the world could send me over the edge more than the thought of him. His cold hands. His smelly body. The way he used to take what wasn’t his. I was helpless, too small to fight. He made sure I couldn’t. These binds around my wrists only take me back to that dark place.
I’m glad he’s dead.
I hear the door creak, and I snap my head up to see Dimitri standing in the opening, staring at me. He has a crystal glass in his hand, filled with an amber liquid. He narrows his eyes when he sees the blood running down my wrists. With a curse, he puts his glass down and walks in, stopping beside the bed. He peers down at me, and I can see his dark eyes are heavy. He’s drunk.
My heart feels like it stops beating.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he rasps. “I’m not goin’ to rape you.”
I swallow and close my eyes, turning my head away. I feel him tug on my restraints, and a moment later, my wrists are free. I sob loudly, and as soon as my ankles are free, I roll to my side, tucking my knees to my chest.
“What happened to the girl with the fight?” he says, his voice husky. “What broke you?”
&n
bsp; I move my gaze up so I’m looking at him. “I’ll never give you the things that break me, jackass.”
His eyes flash with anger, and his jaw tightens as he leans down and takes my shoulder, pulling me up. “We’re going to clean your wrists and then your nose.”
The way he says that tells me it’s not an option.
“I’d rather do my own nose. I’m a nurse and I trust myself more than I trust you,” I say, my voice determined.
He stares at me but he doesn’t argue.
As soon as I’m on my feet he takes me out of the room and down a few long halls until we reach a sitting room. There’s a fire going, and a light crackling sound fills the air. I shiver as he leads me over to a maroon settee and shoves me down onto the soft couch. I don’t move as I watch him walk over to a cupboard and pull out a small medical kit. He walks back over and sits in front of me, not meeting my gaze.
He reaches down and lifts my wrist, placing it in his big hands. I stare at him, just watching the way his hair drops over his face as he begins to dab the blood off my skin. I notice then the scars on his knuckles—there are a ton of them, all faded. I peer down and squint. He’s got light bruising too. Where did he get that? Does he fight a lot? I lift my eyes when I feel him stop cleaning, to see him staring at me. My cheeks heat and I turn away.
“You always stare at people like that?” he asks, beginning cleaning again.
“You always steal people?” I retort.
He snorts. “No, only when I need to.”
I shake my head. “You’re wasting your time.”
“What did I say to you earlier? Ain’t your business what I’m doin’.”
I fall silent and watch as he continues to clean my wrist. When he turns it over, and finds the deep gash I made, he growls. “What were you thinkin’? You could have killed yourself.”
“I don’t like being tied,” I say in a small voice.
“I can see that,” he grumbles. “But pulling and tugging ain’t gonna change it.”
“Maybe I wanted to make it hurt.”
He lifts his eyes, and stares hard at me. “Now why would you want to do that?”
“The pain is better than the memories.”
His stare holds mine for the longest moment, then he turns back to what he’s doing.
“You’re done. I won’t tie you again tonight, but if you smart-mouth me any further, I’m not sure I can keep my word on that.”
I don’t answer him, I just watch as he packs up his kit and stands. I slowly rise, utterly exhausted. I don’t have it in me to argue tonight. I just need to rest.
Dimitri finishes up and takes me back to my room. We don’t say anything else—what is there to say? I’m nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game and he’s nothing more to me than my captor. It’s better if we keep everything as a closed book.
The minute we get back to the room, he opens the door, pushes me inside, and closes it without so much as a peep. I sigh and turn. Not bothering to shower or change, I just flop onto the bed and roll on the soft comforter, pulling it with me until I’m wrapped like a cocoon. Then I close my eyes and everything quickly fades, taking me to a far happier place.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jess
The next morning comes like a bad cold. I open my eyes, remember where I am, and groan. I roll on the bed until I’m propped on my side. The moment I move, I feel my nose throbbing—I know it’s not broken, I’ve seen and felt many during my time as a nurse, but it sure as hell came close. I stare around the slowly brightening room. The sun hasn’t been up long, and I can hear birds chirping outside. I stare over at the bathroom door, and my heart pounds. I’ve been thinking about that spa in there and knowing I’d pretty much kill for an hour in it.
I climb out of the bed and my wrists ache as I move them. I shudder, remembering being restrained last night. It’s not something I wish to happen again. One thing I don’t like is not having control over my own body. I need to have my own back, and when I’m restrained that is taken away from me, leaving me completely helpless.
I reach the bathroom and shove the door open, staring in. It’s a gorgeous room and, by the looks of it, barely touched. I eye the spa bath and I feel myself smile. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the most ideal situation, but the fact is that I’ve spent a long time with a dingy shower and very minimal products. This bathroom is loaded with things I’ve never even heard of before.
I shove the door closed and step in. I remove my clothes quickly, then lean over and turn the spa on. I go through the range of soaps, and end up settling on a lavender-scented bubble bath. I pour some in, and the bubbles rise up along with the steam. Mmmm. I step over the side and slowly lower into the hot, fresh water.
I’ll admit in that moment, I do moan. Loudly.
It’s completely called for.
I soak for a solid ten minutes, just enjoying the feeling of the water surrounding me. When I finally sit up, it’s because I know I have to attend to my hair. I take a bottle of shampoo and fill my palm. I wash my hair twice, and then put some conditioner in and lean back down to soak. I’m enjoying the water when I rub my foot up my own leg and have a mild heart attack.
Holy freaking hairy legs.
I sit up, glancing around quickly for a razor. God, I’ve not spent enough time taking care of myself. It’s not something I prioritized on Hendrix’s ship, being that I was always busy with everyone else. I find a razor and shove the plastic wrapping off it before throwing my leg out of the bath and running it over until it’s silky smooth. Then I repeat the process on the next. I attend to my underarms and any other stray hairs that have felt the need to pop up on my body since the last time I eliminated them.
When I’m finished, I climb out and pull on a robe hanging on the door before taking a brush and starting the frustrating process of detangling my hair. I’d been in that stupid cell for a few days, and in that time my hair created its own breeding nest. There are clumps of hair that have stuck together and so many knots my arm hurts after only the first section.
By the time I get through it, it’s flowing down around my shoulderblades and, even though it’s still wet, it looks good enough. I stare at myself in the mirror. My nose is . . . ugh . . . gross. It’s slightly bruised and puffy, and with my puffy red lip beside it, I really don’t look good, but I’m thankful it’s not broken. I pinch my cheeks a few times, trying to get some color into my pale skin. I’m blessed with the kind of skin that burns over the mere thought of the sun.
“Out here!”
I hear pounding on the bathroom door and Dimitri’s angry voice.
He would scare most people, but it would take a lot more than an angry man on a mission to frighten me. I don’t truly believe he will hurt me. I can’t explain how I know that, I just . . . do. I swing the door open to see him standing wearing a pair of black jeans and a tight gray tee. He jerks when he takes notice of me, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I no longer look like I’ve been dragged from the streets.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” I smile sweetly, walking past him. “You’re such a treat to wake up to.”
I’m almost sure I hear him mumble something about my hair, but I don’t hear enough to know if it’s a good comment or a bad comment. It’s enough to have me running my hands over it to make sure I haven’t missed something. I take a seat on the bed and stare over at him as he picks up a bowl of fruit he’s clearly placed down, and hands it to me. I take it, grateful.
“We need to talk,” he says.
I raise my brows. “Is that your request or mine?”
He glares at me. “Don’t be smart.”
I ignore him, lifting a grape and tossing it toward my mouth. It misses completely and lands on the floor behind me. I give Dimitri a coy smile, and lift another one, attempting it again only to have it end the same way, diving to its death on the floor.
“Where is Hendrix docking?” he asks.
I s
hrug, picking up a piece of pineapple and popping it into my mouth. “I don’t know. Where do you think he’s docking?”
If you could hear teeth grind, you’d hear Dimitri’s. I hide my smile.
“What makes you think you can smart-mouth me, and I won’t do something about it?”
I look up at him. “Are you going to do something about it?”
“Don’t put it past me.”
“Noted.”
His face hardens and his body is rigid.
“What kind of technology is on Hendrix’s ship?”
I shrug again. “I’m just a whore, remember?”
He slams his hand down on a table beside him. “Just fucking answer my question.”
“Say please,” I say, throwing a grape into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he growls, leaning in closer. “Just. Answer. Me.”
I put another grape into my mouth and bite it. To my horror, it explodes sending a squirt of juice right into his eye. He jerks backwards, rubbing at it. I can’t help it; I don’t want to laugh, but it’s one of those moments—there’s no stopping it. I press my hand over my mouth and smother my giggle.
“Jesus,” he roars. “Are you always so frustrating?”
“I told you that you took the wrong girl,” I point out between giggles.
“Answer my questions, or I’ll tie you back up. Is that what you fuckin’ want?”
“Your threats don’t work, you bossy-ass pirate wannabe.”
His brows shoot up. “What did you just call me?”
“I didn’t stutter,” I smirk.
“Firstly, what did I say about you callin’ me a pirate?”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Mr. I Steal Girls, Play On Ships, And Fuck Up Bad Guys But I’m Not A Pirate.”
His jaw tics. “Watch it.”
I huff. “Or what?”
He ignores that question. “What kind of technology does Hendrix have on his ship?”