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GAGE
Iwatch her closely all afternoon. She sticks close to Eric, batting her long lashes at him and playing nice. It pisses me off. She’s doing it on fucking purpose, trying to get close to one of us. It’s obvious if you aren’t blinded by her beauty like that fool. He flirts back, talking to her as if he’s conversing with a woman at the pub. I’m careful to observe and make sure nothing important slips out, but he keeps it light, like she isn’t our bloody prisoner.
Archer disappears with Booker, leaving me with the two chatty birds, and after listening to them flirting for so long, I finally get so annoyed, I snap.
“Fuck off now. Go back upstairs like a good little prisoner,” I snarl, leaning forward until my eyes lock on hers.
Her laugh cuts off, and her eyes narrow on mine in anger as she stiffens. She is sitting cross-legged, and she’s nearly on Eric’s lap, for Christ’s sake.
“G—” Eric sighs. “Grumpy Pants, she isn’t hurting anyone.”
“I don’t give a fuck. She’s annoying me. Go back upstairs. Now. Unless you want me to lock you back up,” I order. If she resists, it’ll give me great pleasure to manhandle her again. Maybe I’ll get in a good hit after her last stunt.
Slowly, as if she’s angry at having to give in to my demands, she rises elegantly. She’s rich through and through, but that fire in her gaze? Well, all the rich girls I’ve seen before didn’t have that.
“Fine.” She sniffs indignantly. “There was no need to be so rude. I guess they don’t teach manners where you’re from.” She moves past me, stopping when she is behind me. I stiffen as she leans in, her warm breath wafting across my ear. Her scent only pisses me off further when my cock reacts to her proximity.
“If you wanted me on the bed, all you had to do was ask.” Her voice is low, a velvet purr. It strokes all my rough edges until my hands curl into fists, and I’m unable to respond. She chuckles softly, like she knows she won this round, and then I hear her head upstairs. The boards creak under her feet as she skips across them, practically excited to be held captive.
“That was rude,” Eric remarks, leaning back. One arm is slung over the back of the couch, his legs are crossed, and his eyebrows are arched high on his forehead.
“She’s our prisoner, not a toy for you to fuck and break,” I defend before standing. “I’m going to check the house. Stay here and behave.”
“Running away?”
I ignore his prodding as he calls after me.
I fucking hate this job. The sooner we get rid of that cunt upstairs, the better.
* * *
Archer and Booker are still gone when the sun sets. The dark country lanes fill with fog, and far off, the moors are coated in a slight mist of moisture from rain. Rubbing my hands together, I blow warm air into my palms as I scan the surroundings before heading back inside. Stomping my boots to get the mud off on the threadbare rug, I take a look around the living room. Eric is snoring on the sofa, the sound somehow still attractive, despite the noise. I roll my eyes with an annoyed snort as I head upstairs, needing to check on our prisoner.
Someone has to make sure she hasn’t done something stupid. She’s been quiet, which doesn’t bode well.
My footsteps are heavy, warning her of my approach. It’s foolish, really, if she’s waiting on the other side of the door to attack. When I reach the door, I listen for movement on the other side, but I hear nothing. Anger rears its head as I slam open the door, my mouth opening to yell at her before I can fully take in the room. I freeze and gape.
She’s asleep…
Peacefully.
For some reason, I’m drawn into the room, and I move closer to see her. Her hands are pillowed under her head, and her knees are pulled to her chest as if to contain her warmth. Her eyes are shut, and her lips are parted slightly in a deep breath. She’s so deeply asleep, she hadn’t even woken with my stomping.
She didn’t complain once, not about the cold or the lack of food. She just went to sleep. That, more than anything, lets me know this woman isn’t like all the other rich girls. Archer said her past made her different, but I didn’t believe him until now. She’s used to it, used to suffering in silence. It’s not the first time…
She might be rich, but this girl comes from the streets like us.
I can see it in her strength and in her tight-lipped acceptance.
Only someone used to being hungry and cold wouldn’t moan. For some reason, that has me softening towards her, despite all her attacks, and I reach out and cover her up with a thin, dirty blanket before stomping out a little lighter than before. I’m angry at myself for doing it, yet despite that anger, I shut the door softly, not wanting to disturb her.
Once back downstairs, I spot Archer and Booker in the kitchen, obviously just having arrived back. Eric is there too, making them a drink as they shiver from the cold. Heading their way, I lean against the wall to the side, watching them.
Archer stops what he’s doing and narrows his eyes on me. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” I mutter.
“But you want to. I’ve known you long enough for that. What is it?” he asks, sitting down.
