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Still holding the knife, Dean scooped up my book bag and shouldered it before looking at me. "Face the door, baby."
I obeyed immediately, my brain desperately forming a plan of escape. I would be in the third-floor hall of the apartment building in a few seconds. The elevator was out of service. The door opposite the one I had stepped through had to be the stairwell. Condor was probably covering that door.
If I screamed once we entered the hall, maybe someone would hear and call the police. Or they might open their door to see what was going on. My chest tightened at the prospect. The only other person I was sure was in the building right then was a semi-comatose eleven-year-old boy. If I screamed and Chucky opened his apartment door, we would both die.
Pressing his chest against my back, Dean used the blade of the knife to push a lock of hair from my ear. His voice husky and unnaturally sensual, he whispered a warning. "Don't think about running."
I shook my head. I had been thinking about running, but I wasn’t going to have a dead child on my conscience. I’d die first. Wrong—I’d be tortured first, both sexually and every other brutality they could think of. Only then would they allow me to die. But if that’s what it took to save Chucky, so be it.
"I can't protect you if you run or scream."
Protect me?
His lips brushed my ear. A shiver rolled through my body, replacing my confusion and fear with a reluctant arousal. His body was an inferno. I could feel his heat sinking into my bones, sapping more of my will to scream or flee.
He stroked the tip of his thumb along my jaw line. My trembling stopped, and I drew my first calm breath. He smelled of ginger and cinnamon. Like the most dangerous of human predators, Dean's entire body was designed to attract.
"You run, they chase. It's in their blood." His thumb trailed lightly down my throat to stop at the collar of my raincoat. "What they catch, they rip and tear until nothing’s left."
His hips shifted. The hard bulge of an erection pushed against my bottom. "Obey me and you'll make it back to your cozy suburb in one piece."
I nodded. I had no doubt I was in the hands of a sexual sadist who thought he could brainwash me into doing his bidding.
To survive, I had to convince him he was right.
CHAPTER 2
GARNET
I spent the next hour in the back of a van, my hands kept bound at the wrist. Curtains blocked the front seat, but the gravitational force of the driver's sharp turns told me he was zeroing back in on a final destination. Knowing they were trying to confuse my senses as to the location was almost a comfort.
With no seats in the back, I sat on the floor. Sorting through my bag, Dean cushioned me from the metal wall with his big body. Removing my ID and bank cards, he glanced at them then shoved them in his pocket.
I offered a sneer he couldn’t see. He was going to be sorely disappointed if he tried to use any of my plastic. As a first-year teacher with a stack of student loans, I had just enough cash on the bank card to buy gas until payday. One pizza away from being maxed out, the credit card was just as useless.
Sitting against the opposite side of the van, Condor eyeballed the necklace I wore. Given to me by my grandmother on her deathbed, it was an antique silver setting with an aquamarine. My grandfather had given it to her on their first wedding anniversary. The blue of the stone matched her eyes—and mine.
Dean looped a finger under the chain. He flipped the pendant over, studied its silver back for a second and then unclasped it. Holding the necklace up with one hand, he forced me to turn my head until he could see my face. His gaze moved from the stone to my irises and back again.
A flick of Dean's wrist and the necklace landed in Condor's lap.
My body already vibrating with tension, I coiled tighter at the loss.
Shushing me, Dean released my face. He shifted our bodies until he could nuzzle my neck and drape one thick arm over my shoulder and across my chest. I heard him breathe in deeply, taking in the scent of my perfume. The arm across my chest pulled me closer and then he pushed aside the lapel of my raincoat. With my blouse exposed, he traced my areola through its thin fabric and the lacy bra beneath.
God help me, my flesh responded even as my mind rebelled. My breasts started to swell as a tingling heat radiated between my legs.
Seeing my nipple's reaction, he cupped my breast and firmly stroked the hardening tip with his thumb. I squirmed, but had nowhere to move. My back was against his hard chest and his free arm blocked me from moving left. He kept stroking, his lips joining the attack as he kissed softly at my neck. Grasping the small bud between his thumb and index finger he lightly pinched and tugged until it was fully erect beneath my bra.
When I started to shake, he shushed me again.
"Better than a slit throat, baby."
I wasn’t sure whether he meant the necklace or his touch. Either way, Dean was right. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to relax against him.
"Much better," he whispered in my ear. Releasing my nipple, he gave my breast a gentle squeeze and then ran his hand over my stomach and along my plump thighs. "It’s been a long time since I had someone so soft and sexy in my arms."
All the forced ease fled my body. After Dean had been arrogant enough to tell his buddies in front of me that he would train me as his bitch, I should have realized he planned to use false flattery and a multitude of other lies.
