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Chapter Twenty-Seven
RORY
What the fuck is happening?
The last hour is a blur. I went from being an assistant to three rich assholes…to being an accessory to murder. Why doesn’t the thought bother me as much as it should? I saw Rogan kill someone in cold blood right in front of me. Hell, I can still smell the gore and smoking gun, and then I fucking washed him clean and almost jumped him. My pussy was drenched from seeing the red splattered across his muscular torso, the crimson speckled over his gleaming skin like paint on a canvas.
Shit.
I shake my head, still glued to the same spot he left me in minutes before. Hesitating, I close my eyes for a moment and breathe slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.
Okay, so I have no doubt they can and have killed people, but did they kill the man Bronson is making me look into? Why did they bring me here today? They must know they can control me and stop me from ever speaking if they are willing to allow me to witness them murdering people and…all of this—this fake money printing and side hustle business, which isn’t legal. No. I was brought here for a reason.
Power.
They brought me to show me I’m theirs. They have complete control over me, and I will never be free of them. The thought sends a spike of both fear and desire through me. I’m not just fucking with rich men, I’m fucking with gangsters.
Killing was effortless for Rogan. He didn’t even bat an eye as he pulled the trigger, so he’s definitely a gangster, one with a fucking gun. I didn’t feel unsafe though, no, I felt protected. I’m sick in the fucking head, that’s for sure. Everyone else would try to find a way out and run for the hills. They would go to jail to avoid being around these killers. Me? I’m standing in his office like an obedient little fucking pet.
Office… I’m in his office. The office of his side business. I wonder if there is anything here Bronson could use. The thought sours me, and I hesitate again. Shit, what’s gotten into me? I need to give information to Bronson so I can be free of them and save my brother and my life, but the thought of betraying them suddenly fills me with dread and regret.
Nope, no time for these useless thoughts. Mitch-bitch and Mischief are depending on me, so I woman the fuck up. I lift my foot and take the first step from the spot Rogan left me in, and then another. As if moving has spurred me into action, I rush to the desk. Darting my gaze between the closed door and the wood desk, I pull open the top drawer with shaky fingers. Inside is a gun, a knife, and some papers, which I shuffle through, but they look like quota reports. I try the bottom drawer and find three glasses and a bottle of scotch. Fuck. I slam it shut, then freeze, my heart racing and palms sweaty as my eyes fasten on the door in case someone heard.
When nothing happens after a few minutes, I relax slightly and turn to the drawers on the right-hand side. The top one is empty, but the bottom one is locked. Biting my lip, I tug on the gold handle, but it doesn’t budge. I debate trying to pick it with a paperclip like I learned, but it may take too long. Instead, I wiggle the computer mouse. The slim Mac wakes up and asks for a password.
Shit.
I type in a few random ones. Dixen. Dixen brothers. Rogan. 1234, because you never know. It does the little wiggle to let me know it’s wrong, so I sit back with a huff, staring at the screen, when an idea forms. It’s stupid, but isn’t it worth a shot? Fuck. I lean forward and my fingers dance across the thin white keyboard, typing in the letters before I hover over the accept button.
MissOBrien
I click enter, and for a moment, nothing happens and my heart drops, even as a tiny, self-righteous laugh escapes, but then it dings and logs in. Holy fuck, it worked. I’m Rogan’s password? What the fuck? Why am I strangely flattered?
I just stare at the screen for a moment, unsure whether to be terrified or touched—I think a bit of both. I hear voices outside, passing by, and I freeze. My eyes widen and focus on the door as I wait for the handle to turn, for them to put a bullet in my skull like they did that man. But it doesn’t, the voices pass. Shit, I really need to hurry up.
Using the mouse, I open some files and scroll through reports. They’re business files, boring, and not what I need. But an unnamed folder, hidden within another one, has me frowning and drifting the mouse over it. Taking a deep breath, I click it open to see one file named ‘Marvin.’
I open it, but it needs a password, so I tug on the drawer again, grab a USB I saw buried under the papers, and stick it in the computer. I have a feeling it’s important. Everything else is unsecure, so why would this one be password protected? There’s no reason unless they were hiding something. I drag it onto the USB and watch the wheel turn as it transfers.
Come on, you little bastard, hurry up.
I hear more voices and footsteps. Shit, shit.
“Hurry up,” I hiss at it, watching the door again. My heart races, my blood pumps, and my palms sweat, preparing to be found at any second and wondering if I’ll suffer the same fate as those who displease and clearly betray the Dixen brothers. As soon as it finishes, I yank it out and put the computer to sleep. The footsteps stop outside the office door, and I stand, the USB burning a hole in my hand.
I need to hide it fast. I look down at the skimpy outfit I’m in, debating where the hell I’m supposed to hide it.
The handle starts to turn, and I know I need to conceal it now or get busted. Fuck it. I reach into my dress and stick it in the seam near my tits, which holds it in place. Hopefully, the material hides the lump, and if they look that closely…well then, I’m done. I just need to ensure they don’t get my dress off before I remove it.
Easy, right?
The door smashes open, hitting the wall, and haloed by the lights of the corridor is the one man I don’t want to see right now. Those dark, dangerous eyes hold me in place, stripping me of every secret. He must notice the slight shake in my hands before I hide them behind my back, the tremor in my body, and the sweat beading on my forehead, betraying my actions. I could flirt and distract Alistair, tempt Rogan with facts or questions, but Maddox? He’s like a wolf with a bone. He’s deadly, terrifying, and most of all? Staring at me like he knows.
With one step, he’s in the room, kicking the door shut behind him. The loud bang makes me jump, and his lips thin as he watches me. His dark eyes run over my body, then the desk and computer, as if searching for whatever I was doing.
“What are you up to?” he rumbles as he reaches back and turns the lock.
The sound of it sliding into place is loud, and my heart bangs inside my rib cage like a trapped bird as my lip quivers in fear from the anger and determination I see in his gaze. I’m not leaving here unless Maddox Dixen chooses to let me go.
I’m trapped with the Beast.
