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Something, in this case, that stinks of West Point’s influence… just like the girl does.
12
RILEY
I’m notsure how long it’s been since Dante left me alone. It took me way too fucking long to stop the shakes that hit me the minute he walked out, and as soon as I managed it, the first thing I did was cross over to the door and turn the handle. Pointless, obviously, since Maddoc made it perfectly clear that I’m not going anywhere.
But to my shock, it turned.
I twisted it all the way and gave it a tug, opening it just a hair to confirm it.
They really hadn’t locked me in.
For some reason, the shock of that fucked with my head even more than everything that came before. Not that I want to be locked in… but I’m not sure I want it to be that easy for any more Reapers to walk in on me either.
I think I heard Dante leave the house earlier, but the window in my bedroom faces the back of the property, so I can’t be sure. I haven’t heard anything since, but the house is big enough that its silence doesn’t really reassure me. Besides, even if I’m right about Dante, Logan and Maddoc have to be somewhere, and who knows if there are other Reapers living here too.
Or other “involuntary guests,” like me.
Fuck.
I’m so fucked.
I need a plan, but it’s hard to make one when those three words keep playing over and over in my head, so I retreat to the bed, curl up in a ball, and go numb for a while. The numbness helps to dull the sharp edge of panic, and when I feel a little more steady, I haul my ass back up and grab the clothes Dante left me.
They smell like him. They’re clean, but with an underlying musk of man that sends heat twisting through my belly. Dante’s scent is a particular blend of spice and smoke that burrowed into my brain while he fucked me last night, and it subtly surrounds me now, wafting into my nostrils.
I almost snap the drawstring on the sweatpants as I pull it tight enough to actually make them stay on my hips, then I slip the t-shirt over my head. I have to knot the damn thing at my waist to keep it from looking like a dress, and it still slips off one shoulder like I’m in an 80s tribute band.
Once I’m dressed, I go back to the window and look out at the well-tended lawn and high fence that surrounds it. I’m sure the fence has some kind of security system installed, just like the window must. That’s not really what keeps me here, though. If Maddoc and his men want me to stay, they’ll enforce it. If I left and they wanted me back—or wanted me dead—they’d make it happen. They’ve cut me off from the world, taken my clothes and my phone, and have me at their mercy. And it terrifies me.
But even if I was offered the chance to walk out the front door right now, I wouldn’t take it.
Because I still need them.
I turn away from the window and start pacing. It doesn’t matter if Dante makes me feel all kinds of confusing things, if Logan looks at me like he’s imagining ten different ways to kill me, or if Maddoc gets off on controlling me.
The only thing that matters is getting Chloe back, and they’re my only hope of doing that.
If, like Maddoc said, they even decided to help me.
But since I’m here, since they brought me into their inner sanctuary, I can at least use the opportunity to find out whatever I can about this world Chloe and I are now a part of.
I need to understand the strengths and weaknesses of West Point and the sadistic fucker who leads it, and what I know for sure is that West Point and the Reapers are rivals. It’s why I’m fucking here. So it also stands to reason that the Reapers have information about West Point. Information I might be able to use against the gang myself if they decide not to help me.
The question is, where do I find that information?
“Not in here,” I whisper to myself, my heart going triple time as I force my feet to move toward the door despite the sense of dread that grips me at the idea of leaving the gilded cage they stuck me in.
Was leaving the door unlocked a trap? A test? I’ve got no clue, and that’s the whole problem. But the house seems quiet, and I’m not going to find any answers if I huddle in here like a frightened rabbit.
So I don’t.
I crack the door open and listen.
Silence.
I pull it open just enough to slip out, then step hesitantly into the hall, looking both ways. No Reapers. Just plush carpeting that makes it easy to move quietly, and a few closed doors in both directions.
