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I'm trapped. Hopeless. Does it make me weak to plead?
Tears burn at the back of my throat. "Please, Trevor, let me go."
He laughs, my terror his entertainment. What was a soft touch is now becoming a trap, his hold tightening around the hair at the nape of my neck. "Let you go? You're mine. Don't you get that?"
My tongue is thick in my mouth, my throat tight. I have no answer for him. Stay calm, Rhett. I try to fight back the overwhelming fear. He's hurting me now, with his hold, but I know he's capable of much worse.
I press my back against the cold metal wall and try to control my breathing. He knows I'm terrified of him, but I don't have to give him the satisfaction of showing him. I can't move too much or the hold he has on my hair will rip at the skin at the back of my neck.
Footsteps echo from the other side of the warehouse, so faint at first, I think it's the sound of my hammering heart. My stomach drops again, like that ride that takes you high then just lets you fall. Trevor’s not alone.
Has he brought a friend here with him to also torment me?
I tell myself to prepare for the worst, but how do you do that when you're already a captive, when your captor’s angry breath is in your face, his hand wrapped around your hair like a vise?
The footsteps grow closer. They're real. Someone is approaching.
I realize Trevor’s not aware of our visitor till just now, his head snapping in the direction of the sound.
"Who the fuck is that," he growls.
A glimmer of hope rises up inside me. He doesn't know who’s here. Could it be someone to help me?
“Beckett,” a deep voice answers, reverberating through the vastness of the cold room.
Beckett? Do I know a Beckett? I don’t think so. I’d remember a name like that. It’s ending is similar to mine.
A tall, muscular man comes into view, his eyes finding mine.
It's him...the half-dead man I tried to help...
I would know those deep brown eyes anywhere. They're the same ones that gazed into mine in the alley, before he kissed me. That handsome face. A few days of scruff from not shaving lines his chiseled jaw, now set with a steely determination.
Those full, perfect lips…
A tingle dances across my lips, remembering that kiss. Again, I’m ridiculously inappropriate, about to die and all I can think of is the feel of his lips against mine. I’m nuts.
"It's you." My whispered breath doesn't get past Trevor. My words make Trevor’s grip tighten on my hair, drawing my head back. I cry out in pain.
"Who?" Trevor’s eyes snap to mine.
The deadly look in his eyes forms ice in my belly. Pain shoots up the back of my neck. I bite my lip to keep from crying out again. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
He could kill me.
Right here.
Right now.
My only hope is this man I don't know. Not really, at least, even though with him standing in front of me, he feels like someone I’ve known forever.
My mind spins with questions, wondering what he's doing here, how he even found me, why he was looking, but there's no time to think. I turn my pleading gaze to the gorgeous stranger. I have no idea how he's gotten wrapped up in my mess, but I'm too scared to feel bad about it—I just need his help.
Beckett stands in the center of the abandoned warehouse, just feet from us. His hands are anchored at his sides, ready to strike.
Trevor sneers at me, as if he wants me to tell him where this man came from. I hold my breath, just hoping he doesn't strike me.
He lets me go.
