Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

MINA

The volume of the music made me wince the moment I stepped through the door at the bottom of the stairs. The room below was soundproofed, so until now, I hadn't heard a hint of the pounding drums or ear-splitting vocals.

Gianni grooved to the sound for a few moments before pulling out his phone and tapping the screen. The music stopped immediately.

The ringing in my ears would last longer.

Leon Graves was chained to the ceiling, his arms above his head. He lolled to one side, the chain holding up all of his weight.

"Thank fuck," he groaned. He raised his face to look up at us. His eyes were bloodshot, the exhaustion obvious. Apart from the knife sticking out of his calf, he seemed physically unhurt.

I wrinkled my nose at the smell. He knelt in what looked like a combination of piss and vomit, mixed in with a bit of blood. Not enough blood, if you asked me.

"People often say that when they see me," Gianni remarked. "It must be my charm."

Leon snorted. Apparently some of his sense of humour was still intact.

"I think he misses your music," I said. "Don't worry, Leon, he'll turn it back on when we leave."

He looked at me like he was considering begging me to kill him so he didn't have to listen to it anymore. Noise that loud would grate on anyone's nerves after a while.

Which, of course, was the point. This wasn't a pleasure dungeon. Well, not for him.

Pleasure came in a variety forms, including seeing someone who had a hand in your personal hell chained to the ceiling.

Leon managed a venomous look before dropping his head back to the side. "I told you everything I know. Kurt is somewhere here in Dusk Bay. If I had more to give you, I would. Anything to get out of here."

I stepped closer to him. "You know you're not getting out of here alive, right?"

"Don't care," he groaned. "Get it over with." He raised his face until his stubbled throat was exposed, begging to be sliced open.

"Tempting," I admitted. "But too easy. Do you think Kurt would have killed me if I begged him to?" I had, but never when he was around. I'd managed to cling on to that much dignity.

"Kurt is an asshole," Leon said. "You can be better than him."

Gianni crouched beside him, gripped the hilt of the knife and twisted it until Leon screamed.

"We are better than him, dickhead ," Gianni snarled. "We don't plan to keep you down here for five years. Not that you'd last." He twisted the knife again. "You'll die of cowardice long before that."

Tears poured down Leon's cheeks. "I will, but you could make it quicker. Please, for fuck's sake."

Gianni pulled the blade from Leon's leg and stood. "You haven't even been here for five hours yet and you're already begging to die. That must be a record. Most people last at least…" He held out his other hand, palm up. "Six or seven hours. The best last two or three days."

"He's far from the best," I said. "But maybe we can make this easier on him."

Leon looked up, suddenly hopeful. "Please…"

"You mentioned Jase and Hammer," I said slowly. "Where are they?"

His hope faded. "I don't know. I haven't seen Jase since that night. He might be dead. Hammer, I don't even know his real name. He could be anywhere. He might be dead too."

"You know where to find them," I said. "You have contacts. Tell us who we can ask."

"You're so hot when you're assertive like that," Gianni told me.

I glanced over at him and smiled before returning my attention back to Leon. "It's that simple."

"There's a woman named Martina," Leon confessed. "She deals in information like that. I can give you her number. You have my phone, it's in there." He nodded, then winced as though his head hurt. It probably did. Gianni's music would have given him a killer headache.

"We'll track her down," Gianni said. "With any luck, she'll tell us where they are. Hopefully they're still alive so we can kill them."

"If anyone will know, it's her," Leon agreed. He looked from me to Gianni and back again.

"When we have them, we'll deal with you," I said.

"But… But," he stammered, "I told you what you wanted to know."

"You gave us something for a start," I agreed. "But that's all it is, a start. For all we know, you might be lying through your teeth."

He wasn't. He was desperate enough to say anything, to get us to kill him or let him go. I suspected he was still clinging to some shred of hope we'd remove him from the chain and kick him out the door. Or better yet, help him disappear before Kurt caught up with him. I had to give him some credit for clinging to hope while there wasn't much of it to cling to. The moment he helped Kurt chain me up, he signed his own death warrant.

"I swear," he groaned, "if I knew anything else, I'd tell you." He swallowed hard. "Martina might be able to tell you where Kurt is. Or Clarissa. She works with him too, you know."

"Nice attempt to throw her under the bus," Gianni said. "You know she drugged you, right? She's the reason you're here."

His eyes flashed with anger, although he must have known what she'd done. One minute he was having a conversation with me, the next he was tumbling to the floor. Any bruises on the back of his head were from her dragging him down a set of stairs.

She was definitely not on his side.

"That won't go unpunished," he said.

Gianni laughed. "By you? Good luck with that, asshole. In case you forgot, you're chained up in here, kneeling in a puddle of your own vomit, and she's out there, living her best life." He jerked his thumb towards the door. "And she's going to go on living, because she works for us, not the prick who pulls your strings. That was your first mistake, Leon. You chose the wrong fucking side. What did you think working for Kurt would get you, anyway? It was only a matter of time before we figured out what he was up to and put a stop to it. And put a stop to him and anyone who works for him."

"I can give you details of his business dealings," Leon said, his voice strained. "They go way back before…" He glanced at me, obviously unsure as to how to word what happened to me. It was best he didn't articulate that. I didn't need a reminder and neither did Gianni.

"He was screwing Reuben over even before then?" Gianni asked. His apparent interest seemed to have given Leon an extra spike of hope.

"He was trying to screw the Brantley family over, yes," Leon said. "Indirectly." He exhaled painfully. "He stumbled upon a plan of old man DiMarco’s. He was going to dispose of Reuben's father and take over his empire and assets. Kurt was going to go to Brantley and tell him everything. DiMarco begged him not to. He knew if he did, he'd be worse than dead."

My blood went cold. "So to stop Kurt from going to Reuben's father, he gave me to him. To keep him quiet." I glanced at Gianni. "That was the debt. Kurt was bribing my father. He gave me to him to save his own ass."

Gianni's lips pressed together in sympathy and anger. "That's fucked up."

That was one way to describe it. I was nothing but a pawn in my father's game. A game he ultimately lost after killing Reuben's parents. Reuben, in turn, had him and my mother killed. An act I didn't blame him for. Especially now.

"Shit," Gianni said. "So Kurt's business interests and influence go further than we thought. Who knows how much of DiMarco's he gained."

"A lot of it," Leon said. "DiMarco built an empire almost big enough to rival Brantley's. He'd spend years building up all of that, ready to make his move. When Kurt found out, he panicked and brought his plans forward. Then everything went to hell. And Kurt stood back and reaped the benefits."

"He's an opportunistic prick," Gianni said. "But this explains a lot. Why it's been so hard to find him, and how he has the funds to finance everything he's been doing. And why Leon here is shit scared of him."

"His reach is further than you might think," Leon said. "Not as much as the Brantley family, but significant. He's arrogant and thinks he's smarter and better than everyone else. Between you and me, I don't think he's all there."

"Some of the best people aren't all there," Gianni said. "But he's not one of the best people."

"He's the worst," I said. My brain was still turning over with what Leon said. Why my father drugged me and handed me to the devil.

I'd always thought he was brave and strong, if somewhat harsh, ambitious and distant. Now I knew he was a coward. As big a wimp as Leon. He had to be, to hand over his eighteen-year-old daughter to save his own neck. He'd preferred that, than owning up to what he was doing, and wearing the punishment for the betrayal.

Better yet, he could have been loyal to the people he worked for. He got everything he deserved, and more, for the things he'd done. I hope he suffered when he died, knowing what I was going through.

He was a monster like Kurt.

"One of the worst," I amended. "Reuben doesn't know any of this?"

"If he does, he never shared it with me," Gianni said. "All I know is that your father killed his parents and he acted in retribution. He may have his suspicions as to what went down, but no one was alive to confirm it. At least, not that we knew of."

"That explains why Reuben doesn't trust Dane," I said. I had my own reasons for not trusting my brother too much, but our father's betrayal would have reflected on him. The son of a betrayer might prove to be one himself.

"Dane is a snake," Gianni said. "That's why Reuben doesn't trust him. He trusts Rose and tolerates Asher. And he loves you. He doesn't hold your blood against you."

For that, I was grateful. When he found me in the basement, I thought he'd kill me. After what Kurt said about the relationship between our families having soured, I expected nothing less. At the time, I didn't care. I wanted to die.

Now, all I wanted to do was live.

"We should tell him all of this," I said.

"So, I've been helpful?" Leon looked hopeful once more. "I don't know what more there is to tell you."

"You'll think of something," Gianni said. He pulled out his phone and smiled.

"No, please, I swear I'll—" Leon's pleas were drowned out by the sound of the music flooding the room again.

"Enjoy!" Gianni shouted. He took my hand and we stepped out of the room before the sound became overwhelming.

I sighed in relief as the door closed behind us, blocking off the noise.

"You're not feeling sorry for him?" Gianni asked.

I snorted. "Fuck no. I'm just glad it's not me."

"Would you prefer to kill him?" Gianni waved back toward the door.

"I think I'll savour the idea for a few days," I said. "I've waited this long to feel his blood on my hands. I can wait a little while longer."

He groaned. "Fuck, that's hot. Probably for the best too. I suspect he'll remember some more important information if he tries hard enough."

"Can I ask you something?" I asked, suddenly shy. "You mentioned you like… Knives?"

Gianni's hand in mine, we slipped upstairs to the room designated as mine. I hadn't actually slept in it, but my things were here, rather than cluttering Reuben's space.

"So, knives, you say?" Gianni stepped inside and let me close the door behind us. He was letting me take the lead in this, every step of the way.

"I do say." I stopped short of engaging the lock. Closed doors were one thing, as was locking the world out of the house. Being inside a locked room was another. Even if it was locked from the inside.

"I don't want to—" I stopped a metre or so from the door, uncertainty seeping in.

"Whatever you want to do, sweetheart. I'm here for it. If you've changed your mind, and just want to talk, that's okay. Or if you'd prefer me to leave?" He stepped toward the door, but I put out a hand to stop him.

"No, don't leave. Please. I want…this. Us. You." So eloquent, but it was all I could manage right now.

I crouched down in front of my suitcase and pulled out a jumper. The black garment was wrapped around one of my favourite knives. The one I'd used the most often to kill.

If blades absorbed blood, it would have been soaked.

"She's beautiful." Gianni crouched beside me and looked admiringly at the cold steel. "Beautiful and deadly, just like you." He leaned over and kissed me.

I kissed him back before finding myself placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back onto the cool, hardwood floor. I straddled him and pressed the knife to his throat.

His eyes widened, but he smiled. "Hello there."

I smiled back. I could have taken his life then and there, but he knew I wouldn't. He trusted me completely to hold a sharp blade to his throat and not drive it into his vein, or slice him open.

Would I trust anyone else to do the same? Didn't know, but this was both gratifying and arousing.

With my spare hand, I pushed up his t-shirt, only lifting the knife to push the fabric up over his head.

His upper body bare, I was free to run the tip of the knife over his rock hard skin. Light, so I didn't break it, not yet.

He half closed his eyes and smiled. "Fuck, that feels good."

I licked my lips and undid the button of his jeans before sliding down the zipper. I pushed them down far enough for his erection to spring free. He was already hard and ready.

I glanced at his face before carefully sliding the side of the knife down his length and back up again.

"Holy shit." He swallowed audibly. "Sweetheart, that is…" His hips rolled, equally careful, obviously mindful of the damage I could do to him right now.

I replaced the knife with my tongue, licking him from tip to balls and back again.

He quivered. "Mina…"

I set the knife aside and pulled my singlet off over my head and onto the floor. He gripped the waistband of my leggings and tugged. I half stood to pull them off, before lowering myself back onto him, dressed only in a bra and panties.

I picked the knife back up, and once again brought it to his throat. While I pressed lightly, he snuck a hand between us, over the gusset of my panties.

It was my turn to quiver.

Taking that as his cue, he tugged my panties aside and rubbed the pad of his thumb over my clit.

I swallowed down a ball of nerves and positioned my pussy over his cock. Blade poised in one hand, I slowly lowered myself onto him.

Until now, I was acting on instinct, and having read a lot of smutty romance books. I'd never imagined doing this myself, much less taking the lead. But the knife in my grip gave me confidence like nothing else could. It made me feel both safe and powerful.

Nothing and no one could touch me, unless I chose to let them.

"Don't be scared to draw blood," he said, rubbing more firmly on my clit.

My tongue slid over my lips. I nodded. I pressed down until a bead of blood formed on his throat. The sight was almost enough to make me come on the spot.

"Mmm, yeah," he groaned. He thrust up slowly, taking his time to enjoy every moment.

I moved to a different spot, a centimetre from the first, and pressed down until blood sprang from the small incision. It trickled over the tattoo on the side of his neck, and onto the floor.

Once, twice more, I cut into him, always gentle, always shallow, my desire rising with every stroke of his thumb.

"I'm going to come," he said, sounding pained with the effort from holding back. "Come for me first."

With one last incision, I came, bucking slowly, holding my hand steady so the blade only went exactly as deep as I wanted it to.

He came a few moments later, eyes shut, expression one of total bliss as he spilled himself inside me. Cum flooding warm and wet like the blood that dripped onto the hardwood.

I sagged down over him and pulled the knife away. I breathed in heavily, inhaling the scent of sweat, blood and him. The most heady combination I ever remembered smelling in my life.

"See, I like knives," he said finally.

I laughed, deep and husky in the back of my throat. "So do I."

He chuckled. "I thought you might. That's why we fit so well together. We both like blood, death and sharp objects."

"Three of my favourite things," I said.

He wrapped his arms around me. "Mine too. After you. You're on top of me and my top four."

I rested my head against his chest and exhaled softly. Content to lie there for a while and be alive.