Chapter Three

Pit

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" asks Coop, coming into the kitchen. "You don't feed her or give her a drink?"

"She's not a damn guest," I snap. "And when she dies, she won't shit herself if she's empty."

"Fuck, Pres, do something about him, would yah?"

Axel shakes his head in annoyance. "He's a lost cause. Did she talk?"

"Yeah."

I glare at Coop. "She did?" I can't hide the surprise in my tone.

"Yeah, amazing what some respect and kindness gets you," he says, arching a brow. "She's an escort. He hired her for a few days, they went to the warehouse last night, and he left her there while he went to a meeting. He didn't return."

"So, she doesn't know him?" asks Axel.

"No. Never met him before, and he didn't pay her either."

"I know what you're trying to do here," I snap, "and she ain't gonna live past today."

"She's done nothing wrong," Coop argues.

"She saw me," I yell.

"She won't talk."

"And if she does?"

"What will she tell them, that some guy with two dogs took her and held her for the night? She's an escort. She'll stay quiet cos the police won't give a shit. They'll think she pissed some customer off and she's trying to get paid or something."

"I ain't risking it," I tell them. "She dies today."

A phone rings, and I realise it's in my pocket. I take it out. "It's Tessa's," I tell them, glancing at the screen. "It's him," I add, showing them Alec's name.

Axel takes it and accepts the call, putting it on loudspeaker. "Tessa, where are you?" Alec yells, sounding panicked. "What the fuck happened? Who came to the warehouse and took my shit? Jackson is dead."

"I think you'll find it was my shit to begin with," Axel says calmly.

The line falls silent for a few seconds. "Who the hell is this?"

"The person you stole from," Axel replies.

"Impossible. Where the fuck is she? Where's Tessa?"

"She's safe, for now."

"Put her on," he demands.

"Yah know, Mr. Clay, you've really pissed me off," says Axel. "So, I think you should reel in the tantrum and stop making demands."

"You know my name," he states. "At least offer me the same courtesy and give me yours."

"Axel. I'm the President of The Chaos Demons."

The line falls silent again. "So, you found me," he says, sounding amused. "The problem is, Axel, those crates have already been sold, and if my buyer doesn't get them, he's going to come looking for you."

"I don't see why. They were never yours to sell, therefore, I'm not the one who can't deliver."

"You have no idea who you're messing with."

"I think you're the one who's confused," says Axel.

"You'd better return those crates and my fucking wife," he screams before disconnecting.

I arch a brow. "Wife?" I repeat, staring at Coop in amusement. Seems he didn't get the entire truth after all.

I storm into the living room where Tessa is staring out the window. She turns just as I shove her against the glass. I pin her arms above her head and press my mouth to her ear. "You're his wife," I growl. "His fucking wife."

"It's not what you think," she cries, twisting to try and get free.

"I was trying to help you," says Coop from behind me, his voice laced with disappointment. "All you had to do was tell the truth."

She laughs . . . actually laughs. "And then you'd have let me go, right?" She huffs in annoyance. "He'll come for me," she spits. "I bet he's already on his way."

"Tracker," mutters Axel, "in her phone."

"He'd have used that to find her last night," I snap. "She's talking shit."

She looks me in the eye and grins. "Wanna wait around to find out?"

I reach into my boot and retrieve a small knife. "You're right, let's put an end to it." I press the blade to her neck, and she freezes, her confidence from seconds ago vanishing.

"Pit," snaps Axel, "stop."

"Why? Let's just end her now and concentrate on the real problem."

"We can use her," he says. "Let her go."

I keep my eyes trained on her baby blues. They dilate, and then she turns her head slightly, breaking eye contact. I step back, and she releases a breath, rubbing her wrists. "We need to move her," adds Coop.

"I got another place," I mutter.

"I'll keep her phone and get one of the guys to check for any trackers just to make sure. I need to keep contact with this fucking idiot," Axel says. "In the meantime, get her talking."

I drive half an hour to the farm I inherited from my grandparents over ten years ago. Gigi and King immediately begin barking, recognising where we are. The noise wakes Tessa, and she looks out the window at the rundown farmhouse. "Where are we?"

I smirk, getting out the truck and slamming my door. I let the dogs out before rounding her side and opening the door. I lift her and carry her towards the house, seeing as her wrists and ankles are bound again.

I dump her on the large wooden kitchen table, resting her feet on the bench, then I go to the drawer, retrieve a large knife, and cut the tape from her ankles. She holds out her arms expectedly, and I shake my head. "No, just the ankles."

"You can't keep me like this," she argues. "What if I have to pee?"

"Do you?"

"Maybe," she mutters.

"Follow me," I tell her as I head for the back door. She struggles down from the table and follows me into the overgrown garden. I lead her down the garden path to a small shed that houses the outside toilet. I pull the dilapidated door and it creaks open.

I point, and she peers inside. "This is the toilet?"

"Do you still need to pee?" She gives her head a slight shake. "I didn't think so." I head back inside, and she follows. "We're miles from anywhere," I tell her. "And the dogs run fast. You try anything and they'll hunt you down."

"How long are you keeping me here?"

"Until I'm told otherwise."

"I can't give you any information," she says, moving closer to me as Gigi comes into the kitchen. Tessa throws herself at me, keeping her eyes fixed on the dog. "Please, can't you keep that thing outside?"

"She's practically my child," I scoff, taking her by the arms and moving her a few steps back from me. "Feel free to go out there yourself, though."

"You'd make me live out there over a bloody dog?" she demands.

"Yep."

She narrows her eyes. "Now, what?" she asks, looking around.

"Now, we wait."

"For?"

"Your man to come to your rescue."

"Then what?"

"He'll die. And you . . . well, let's hope there's a plot for the two of you so you can be buried together."

Tessa

We've been here for hours and the sun is starting to set, so it must be at least nine in the evening. I don't know if Alec will get me out of this mess, but something tells me he won't, and then I'll be left to die at the hands of this fucked-up piece of shit who keeps scowling at me and refuses to engage in any kind of conversation.

I sit at the kitchen table with my hands resting on top, still taped together. I'm desperate for a pee, but there's no way I can go outside. There were spiders as big as the damn dogs in that thing.

Pit chops vegetables, and if it wasn't such a serious situation, I'd laugh. This huge, burly man chops the carrots with ease, occasionally emptying the pile into a pan. The potatoes are already on the boil, all things he got from the garden, like he's some kind of gardening wizard.

"So, have you had this place long?" I ask. So far, he's ignored my questions, only answering when he has some threat or a sarcastic comment to make.

He sighs before asking, "How long have you been married?"

I twist my fingers together. "Not long."

"A week, a month, a year?"

"A few days."

He frowns. "And you're already in the shit. Not really the marriage you'd hoped for? Was it a big affair?"

"Huh?"

"Your wedding, cos I checked your phone earlier and there were no pictures."

"So what?"

"Not really the sort of thing you'd expect from a blushing bride. I mean, how old are you and you haven't even got social media?"

"I don't like social media."

"Bullshit. People who don't have social media are hiding something."

"Do you have it?" I ask.

"No, but I'm hiding something."

"The fact you're a cold-blooded killer?"

He smirks, turning to put the pan of vegetables on the cooker. He grabs the pack of meat he took out the freezer earlier and slaps it on the chopping board, using a knife to cut away the packaging. "Where are you from, Tessa?"

"Why do you care if you're going to kill me?" I snap.

"My grandparents left me this farm," he says, placing two steaks on the board. I watch as he seasons them, occasionally rubbing the herbs into the red meat. The blood on his fingers takes me back to the warehouse, and I squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. "They died."

"Died, or did you kill them for it?" I ask, unable to stop myself.

He sniggers, and I'm relieved he hasn't taken offence. "They died together but not at my hands."

I roll my eyes, not believing him. "I wasn't lying. I don't know Alec," I tell him.

His eyes meet mine, and I stare back so he can see I'm telling the truth. "You married a man you don't know?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"That's none of your business. I have my reasons, but I didn't lie about anything else."

"So, you are an escort?"

"Of sorts."

"He hired you to marry him?"

"I have something he wants."

"Well, now, I have something he wants too, so let's hope he's willing to fight to get it all back."

He turns his back and places the steaks in a red-hot pan. As they sizzle, I stand, gaining the attention of Gigi, who also stands, alerting Pit, who turns. "I'm not running," I snap. "I need to pee."

"So, pee," he says, nodding at the door.

"With my hands tied?" I ask.

"Yes."

"In that spider-filled shack outside?"

"Yes."

"Fuck," I hiss, heading for the door. I step outside and look around. There's land for miles, and all I can hear are birds singing their evening song and crickets in the grass. I carefully open the door to the toilet and wince. There are cobwebs and huge spiders in the corners. I edge in slowly and look into the toilet. It's dirty inside, but there are no insects, so I squeeze my eyes closed and reach under my dress to remove my underwear. If I can't see them, they're not there, right? Lowering onto the seat, I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. "It's fine," I whisper out loud. "I'm fine. They're just little, tiny insects. They're scared of me and I'm bigger."

"Who are you talking to?" My eyes shoot open to find Pit staring at me with a confused look on his face.

"Myself," I hiss.

"You're giving yourself a pep talk about spiders?"

"I hate them," I admit.

"Pity, there's one right next to you," he says, and I scream, jumping off the toilet and running out with my underwear still around my knees. I'm aware I'm still screaming and waving my arms around my head, and it's only when Gigi runs at me that I fall back onto my arse.

"Gigi, sit," Pit orders when she's inches from my face. He's still half-laughing from my overreaction. "She's already terrified enough without you trying to eat her."

My heart slams against my chest, and I begin to sob. The last twenty-four hours are catching up with me, and being so terrified has come to a head. Pit's laughing fades. "Look," he says with a sigh, "I was kidding. It wasn't that big." I sob harder, trying to tug my knickers up my legs to no avail.

Pit swoops down and lifts me under my arms, putting me back on my feet. He crouches before me and pulls my knickers up, straightening my dress. "You're fine," he says firmly. "Spiders won't hurt you."

I give a slight nod, humiliation now replacing my terror. As I follow him back to the house, he begins to laugh again. "You know what's funny?" he asks, wiping tears from under his eyes. "That you reacted more to a fucking spider than you did to being taken or a man being killed right before your eyes."

We go back into the kitchen and the steaks are now resting in the pan. I'm impressed with his cooking skills—I've never known a man to cook before. My father was a lazy fuck who made me do everything he classed as ‘woman's work', and I haven't known Alec long enough, but he seems the type to have a chef or just eat out a lot.

"Sit," he tells me, and I do.

He plates up the food, placing one in front of me, then he takes my wrists and uses a knife to slice the tape away. I rub the redness, grateful he's at least allowing me to eat properly.

He sits opposite me with his own plate of food and gives a nod. "I want to see what you think," he says.

I pick up the cutlery and slice into the steak. My mouth waters as the juices run out onto the plate. It's medium rare, cooked to perfection. I close my eyes in appreciation as it melts in my mouth, and when I open my eyes, Pit is watching me closely. "It's really good," I tell him, blushing slightly.

"We have cows," he tells me. "I have a farm manager who deals with all that, but there's enough meat in that freezer to feed half of London."

"Why don't you look after them?"

He shakes his head, taking a bite of his steak and groaning in pleasure. I shudder at the sound, picturing the way he kissed me in the elevator. "I don't stick around for long."

"Why?"

"So, what do you have that your husband wants?" he asks, changing the subject.

"That's my secret to keep."

He smirks. "It must be important if he married you."

"It's worth a lot," I reply.

"You know I'm going to find out, right?"

I continue to eat. Who knows what he'll do when he finds out? And without it, I have nothing left to bargain with.

"Are you married?" I ask.

He laughs. "Fuck no."

"I didn't think so."

He narrows his eyes. "And why's that?"

"Men like you don't usually have a wife."

"And now you're analysing me?" he scoffs. "Tell me, pretty lady, what do you think you know about me?"

I shrug. "You said you're away a lot. Women don't usually put up with that unless they travel too, and I don't see anyone with you. You love your dogs more than kids, so you don't have your own kids."

"I could have them. Maybe they don't live with me."

I shake my head. "You have no compassion or empathy. Parents usually have that. You seem like a solitary kind of guy who hates being around people, and you have no tolerance for women."

"I have no problem with women," he snaps. "It's just ones who lie that piss me off."

"I think you have a bad relationship with your mum, and your dad ran out when you were small or before you were born."

He scowls again. "You seem like the type to fuck around," he says. "Maybe play a few guys against one another. I bet you left school with one thing in mind, to find a rich man and have kids."

"You're way off the mark," I mutter.

"Bet you were popular at school, top bitch badge for you. Bet all the boys flocked, and you loved the attention," he continues. "A prick tease."

"I bet you didn't even attend school," I counter. "You were the sort to skip school and hang out with drug dealers and criminals."

"Now, that part you got right," he says, winking. "I made pretty girls like you wet with one look, and then I'd break their little, desperate hearts."

I roll my eyes. "You're so full of yourself."

We eat the rest of dinner in silence. Once we're done, I stand, and he follows me with his eyes as I take my plate to the sink. I begin to fill it with hot water and washing-up liquid, then I turn and take his plate, relieved to be doing something normal amongst all this chaos.

Once I've washed up, he stands. "I'll show you where you're sleeping."

I almost smile. This farmhouse is beautiful, if not a little neglected. I imagine the bedrooms to be cosy, and I'm so tired, I'm certain I'll be asleep the second my head hits the pillow.

He leads me up a flight of stairs, but we pass all the doors and go to the end of the hallway. He stands to one side of a second set of stairs. "Up there," he says. My heart begins to race again because I've already guessed that beyond that door at the top of the stairs isn't a cosy bedroom.

Climbing the steps warily, I push the creaky door. The smell of dampness is strong, and the only light is a faint glow of orange from the sunset. It illuminates piles of boxes covered in dusty sheets. "The attic?" I ask, looking back at him.

He remains on the bottom step. "Goodnight, Tessa."

"Are you shitting me?" I snap, tiredness getting the better of me. "You want me to sleep up here in this dirty attic?"

"Like I said before, this isn't a hotel stay." His stupid dogs come rushing up when he whistles. "Watch," he tells them, and they sit at the foot of the steps.

"Wait," I say as he turns to leave. "What if I need to pee again?"

"You'll have to call for me."

I purposely didn't drink anything at dinner to avoid filling my bladder, but still, I don't want to risk being up here and forgotten about. "Well, where will you sleep?" I ask.

He grins. "In my bedroom."

"Well, can't I . . . erm . . . can't I sleep in there on the floor?"

He laughs. "No."

"Please, Pit. I won't talk. I just don't like . . ." I glance back. "The dark."

"Goodnight, Tessa," he says, more impatiently this time. He leaves, and I stare at the dogs watching after him.

"Fuck."

I step into the room and look around. There's no bed, and I daren't touch anything in case I disturb spiders, or worse, rats. Shuddering, I head to the round window and wipe my hand over the dusty glass, clearing it enough for me to look outside. There are fields upon fields and no sign of life beyond this farm. Pulling a stool to the window, I sit down and notice a figure in the garden below. Pit. He begins to move, taking the stance of a martial arts fighter as he slices the air with his arms. Of course, he's into that sort of thing, he's fit with a body ripped as fuck. I groan. Trust me to be lusting after the psycho who's keeping me captive.