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Irvin.
He was supposed to be on a family visit for the next two days. What happened?
I stop moving on top of Nate and swivel my head. Our eyes lock. Wordlessly, Nate jerks his hips forward in one go and squeezes my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh, and comes inside me. He opens his mouth in a mute moan, rolls me over so that my back hits the wall by his bed and stands, pulling on his briefs and black, ripped jeans. I lie on his bed, watching his every move. For all I know, he could throw me back into the basement any minute now. Just because we fucked for the past three hours doesn’t mean he really is on my team.
But this time, I’m not going into the basement, even if it means shedding blood. No matter whose.
We hear his roommate moving around the house. His Crocs squeaking in the hallway while he mumbles to himself. He’s taking a leak with the bathroom door open, then moves to the kitchen, raiding the fridge.
“What are we going to do?” I mouth, my head propped on my hand. Nate throws me a calm look.
“Stay here. Don’t move.”
Don’t count on it, buddy.
I watch his shirtless figure walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he does, I jump out of the bed and yank open the drawer to his bedside table.
Perfect. Thank you, Nate. Lying there and waiting for me to embrace it is an old- school dagger. I slip into my underwear, pick up the weapon and slide it into my waistband. I pull my dress on to hide my new best friend. After I’m done, I press my ear to the door. I hear their muffled voices and my heart picks up speed.
Please don’t betray me like everyone else.
I hear furniture creaking and the sound of Irvin getting pissed off.
“You want me to take care of the bitch? That ain’t fair! I wasn’t even supposed to be here. Not my fault my fucking mom came down with the flu.”
My pulse thickens against my throat. Take care of me? What?
“Do it,” Nate prompts.
“No.” I hear Irvin’s voice approaching Nate’s room, the thuds of two sets of feet on the carpet. Shit. They’re both going to come for me. I can maybe take one of them, though even that’s farfetched, but both? With just the dagger? That’d be damn near impossible.
I stumble back until my knees hit the edge of Nate’s bed.
“You better do it,” I hear Nate’s baritone. This is a nightmare. I let the guy into me—again—and now he’s going to have his roommate throw me into the basement?
I pull out the dagger and wait in a southpaw stance in front of the door. I hear their footfalls going back and forth, some more shuffling, and after a while—who knows how much time’s passed—the door swings open, and I run straight to the body in front of me and stab the dagger into his flesh.
Nate.
“Fuck!” he growls, stumbling away, his back hitting the wall. I rush out, about to stab him a few more times as he nurses his bleeding bicep by squeezing the wound. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I heard you.” I point the bloody dagger at his face, seething. “You sent Irvin to deal with me.”
“I sent him to the fucking basement so I can lock him in there. What in the actual fuck? You talk about trust, but you give me none.”
“Of course I don’t trust you,” I shriek, hysteria closing in on my throat. Which part of our encounter together so far would have made me trust him? The part where he took me in as a hostage, or the part where he fucked me and then disappeared for a few days until showing back up to the gates of my own, personal hell? It’s been a long time since I trusted a man, and just because he said he switched teams, doesn’t mean that I fully believe him.
“Well, that’ll have to change.” He makes a tsking sound, looking down to his right bicep and slowly peeling his hand away to assess the damage. I managed to cut deep. Well, at least I have that going for me in case I find myself engaged in a knife fight.
Only now I feel bad about doing this to him. Not overly bad, he deserves some kind of punishment for my captivity. But it was probably not the best idea to injure the guy who is about to help me run away and take down three of the most dangerous men I’ve ever come across.
“Fine. I’m willing to admit that there may have been a bit of an overreaction on my end.” I fold my arms around my midsection.
“Ya’ think? Wow, it takes a big woman to admit that.” He bites every word, pushing his healthy hand through his hair.
