Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

Well, isn’t this fan-fucking-tastic. Here we are, stuck in a literal death trap, all because Raiden has probably pissed off god knows who and I, the stupid “pendejo,” as she likes to call me, thought it wise to break into her house. And now we’re here on a fast track to our untimely demise without a feasible way out other than to play their games. Not to mention I have no fucking weed, since my vape along with my wallet and phone was taken when we were. Goddamn it, I could use a hit or five right now to soothe the unease that is threatening every inch of my body. I’m fucking pissed…scared, really, and I know she is too. That confidence of hers that she always drapes over her shoulders, pretending to be whoever she has to be to get through her day, lying to others and herself, is dwindling. So I guess, simply for the sake of making it out of here alive–hopefully–I’ll suck it up and do what’s needed to get out of here.

Curling my fists tight at my side, I break the tension that’s filled the room. “Got it.” I nod, turning to look at Raiden, who is unexpectedly silent.

“Excellent, Mr. Cromwell. And you, Ms. Ramos?” the anonymous voice asks, but of course Raiden stands there with crossed arms and a fresh scowl on her face.

“Just answer,” I mutter under my breath, shooting a stern stare at her defiant body, trying to ignore how sexy she looks even in her stubbornness.

“Ms. Ramos?” the voice repeats and even with its scratchy, robotic tone, it’s obvious they’re growing impatient.

She shoots me a violent side eye before finally clearing her throat to speak. “You do know who I am, right?” she asks, indignation flowing through every inch of her body.

“Raiden Ramos,” the voice replies, seemingly unimpressed.

“Of course, you do,” she scoffs before looking like she’s going to blow a fuse. Much to my surprise, she remains even keeled in her delivery. “Given that you know my name, then I assume you know who I work for, correct? No one would send their minions with chloroform ready to drag me here if they didn’t know exactly who they were fucking with. Or am I being too bold in my assumption that you’re actually intelligent and not just a pathetic coward hiding behind a robo voice?” She seals her verbal jab with a fuck you gesture…and the brat is back.

“Feisty, aren’t you? Well Ms. Ramos, I hate to break it to you, but I prefer my victims to have fire in their veins. It makes watching them attempt to play and save their own lives that much more enjoyable. So, thank you, you’re going to make having a member of the Moretti organization well worth the hell it took for me to get you here.”

My eyes bulge. Moretti? Of course, she works for Moretti. The whole blonde-wigged Sally facade, all of that was probably his idea. And here I was thinking that after all the hatred Carmine had for my family, he was giving us a second chance by letting Brett and I distribute fantasma for him. The pressure of my fists increases, wondering if Maddox knew that Sally–or Raiden–was working for Moretti undercover the whole time pretending to be Brett’s girlfriend to steal from us. Fuck, and now if Moretti finds out what I did, breaking into one of his associate’s homes, who knows what he’ll do. But that should be the least of my worries…getting out of here is top priority. Although the prospect of survival suddenly doesn’t seem as enticing if dealing with Moretti is part of the outcome. Oh well, I’ll deal with that hot mess later.

Snapping out of my internal spiral, I listen back to Raiden running her mouth to the speaker. “Then you’ll know that when he finds out I’ve been taken, he’s not going to be pleased,” she threatens, and I can’t help but admire the smirk spreading across her pouty lips.

“What makes you think he’ll be alive to find out?” the voice coos, causing the pigment of Raiden’s face to morph to a stark, ghostly white. Even my blood runs a few degrees cooler at the blunt question that felt more like a statement.

But an amazing thing happens. Despite her obvious horror at hearing that her boss may or may not be dead, she doesn’t act scared. In fact, she acts the exact opposite. She stomps, propelling herself forward, pointing and yelling what I can only assume are obscenities in Spanish towards the camera. I want to chase after her and tell her to stop, but I know there’s no stopping her. She waves an accusatory finger upward, adding emphasis to every delicious syllable she is spewing out of her mouth. I don’t know what she’s saying, but the way she’s rattling off what must be a million different ways to say fuck you has my blood warming and shooting down to my cock. Shit, I need to look away and snap out of it. Now is definitely not the time for a fucking erection, because I’m a sadistic fuck who likes how she–a liar, thief, and mafia associate–looks so damn sexy when she’s angry. I hate how my body just reacts to hers without rhyme or reason. She’s like watching a car crash happening in real time. It’s brutal, with the very real potential to be deadly, but holy fuck, if it doesn’t take every fiber of my being to try to look away from her.

“Settle down, Ms. Ramos,” the voice states, but she continues to yell, her face no longer pale but red from seething anger.

“The fuck I am! I’m going to fucking kill you,” she shouts.

A screech sounds from the speakers, a deafening, boisterous laugh spilling out of them.

“Right. All the way from there, you’re going to kill me? I respect your tenacity, but I’d love to see you try, little girl,” the anonymous speaker cackles.

“Call me that again and see what happens.” The last syllable of Raiden’s threat barely leaves her lips when the concrete slab beneath our feet begins to shift. Gears grind, screeching at our eardrums as the light flickers before settling into an eerie shade of crimson.

I try to stand my ground and fight the warped sense of gravity, but the more the floor contorts, the harder it is to remain in one place. Looking at Raiden, she remains stoic, as if she’s in a bubble, unaffected by our changing environment. My body bobs with each jolted movement of the ground, but my gaze stays with Raiden. The crimson lights beaming down on us suit her. There’s never been an invisible halo over her head. She’s all horns, all attitude all the fucking time, and it’s intoxicating how the devilish shade conforms to her every curve. She looks like damnation, and I’ve never wanted to fall deeper in the fiery pits of hell more than I do now. But if we want to get out of here, and more importantly, if I want to win whatever games await us, I need to ignore the painful surge of blood she sends to my dick and instead tap into the fury her antics cause in my veins, grating my every nerve.

The floor continues to groan as the room appears noticeably smaller. We’re forced together again as we’re propelled just inches from an elevator-like steel door that’s sealed shut. I shake my head. This is fucking unbelievable. I laugh to myself, unable to control it. I do this when I’m angry or nervous sometimes, and since I’m currently both and can’t smoke it off like I prefer to, here we are. I’m cackling, probably pissing off whoever is in charge, and from the way that Raiden’s hand is now tapping my arm…her as well.

“Mr. Cromwell. Is there something you find amusing?” the speaker asks.

“Yeah, Colson, care to share what the fuck you’re laughing about?” Raiden adds.

My lips part, but my opportunity to answer is interrupted by the opening steel door before us. It whines and cranks open as a neon haze of black lights spill through the opening to reveal a masked man who towers over my six foot three, dressed head to toe in black with a balaclava covering his face.

A beep sounds from the speakers before the anonymous voice chimes back in. “Now, my associate has a mask that one of you will get to wear. Which one of you that is will be determined by a coin flip.”

“Seriously?” I ask, “Heads or fucking tails? What a joke,” I chuckle, tossing my hand up in the hair.

Raiden’s sweet vanilla and coconut scent attacks my nostrils as she swats at my hand before reaching for my chin instead. Contorting my face to look over and down to hers, a reprimanding glare awaits me. “A word of advice. Unless you have it within that tall, beautiful body of yours to back up your cocky remarks, I would shut your mouth.” Her eyes widen to emphasize her very valid point, but the glutton for punishment in me is hung up on the tall and beautiful part. Her lips part as if she’s read my mind, and then she clicks her tongue, letting go of my chin to wag her finger in front of my face. “Did you hear me, or did you stop listening when I complimented you? Colson, get with it.”

Trust me I’m trying.

“Heads or tails?” the anonymous speaker cuts in, just as the masked intruder drives their large boot into my foot.

“Fuck, was that necessary?” I wail out, my foot pounding from the blunt force.

“If you refuse to answer, yes, it is,” the anonymous voice says with not an ounce of emotion, not that we could tell if there actually was any due to whatever is being used to disguise their voice.

I take a deep breath, gathering myself to speak. “Fine, heads,” I grit through a tight jaw.

“Perfect, that means you get tails, Ms. Ramos,” the speaker declares. “Ah, and would you look at that, it’s heads.”

“Fuck yeah, I win.” I clap, loving the disappointment smeared across Raiden’s face. Granted, the heads or tails thing was stupid, but a win is a win, especially when it’s against her.

“Which would you prefer, Mr. Cromwell, mask or no mask?”

“Mask,” I reply without hesitation. Truthfully, I hate masks. However, I do remember a certain someone taunting me with her seductive threat the night she disappeared without a trace.

“You could cover that pretty face with a mask, threaten to chase me and punish me with what I’m sure is a big, pierced dick–my favorite by the way–and I still wouldn’t give in to you. Never.”

Well, I’ve got the six piercings between my dick and sack so if we’re destined to die as pawns in a madman’s game, I might as well have a little fun as she regrets the words that have replayed in my mind daily. Raiden has no idea how addicting she is. Just like she has no idea how willing I am to capture the high her defiant presence gives me.

The masked intruder hands me a devil’s masquerade mask before walking off. Déjà vu assaults me, this mask looks eerily similar to the one I could’ve sworn I saw that night years ago, but I ignore it. Instead focusing on the flicker of excitement form in my periphery from Raiden as I run my hand over the smooth red leather as I stretch the elastic back, draping it over my face. “I didn’t peg you for a mask kind of guy,” Raiden scoffs with just the faintest glimmer of intrigue in her dark irises.

I step to her, mask on my face, height overpowering hers as I bring my hand to her cheek, brushing it with a gentle stroke. “I’m not, but the thought of how wet and needy you’re going to be while you’re hellbent on beating me at whatever games we’re about to play to get out of here is well worth it.” Hand graduating to her chin, I squeeze it and the harsh swallow she takes vibrates against my forced hold. Lowering my masked face, I lick at my lips, tracing them slowly before speaking. “You’re wet already, aren’t you?”

The barbell of her tongue juts out between her teeth. “No,” she answers, unconvincingly.

I remove my hand from her face, skipping it to her chest, which heaves violently. Her pulse vibrates against my skin as I begin a slow descent down her torso. “Are you sure about that? Because I can just find out myself, you know.”

“Get off me,” she pants before realizing how needy her voice sounds. She clears her throat, repeating herself. “Get off.” Tone steadier and less breathy, but not convincing at all.

“You’re more than capable of removing my hand. Why aren’t you?” I ask, taunting her and nearing her lower stomach. “Huh?” I press.

Her hips jut forward harshly, throwing off my hand as she alters her height to the tips of her toes. Lips tease my cheek before her tongue invades the shell of my ear, “I’m only wet because I like the mask. Don’t get too cocky though. Anyone can wear a mask. It’s about how you wear it. So, if you want to impress me, you have your work cut out for you.” She seals her sultry whisper with a tug of my earlobe in her teeth before flattening her feet and adjusting herself to stand by my side.

“Fair, but you didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you move my hand?” I poke at her.

Her head turns, hair whipping with her abrupt motion. “Because you’re hot and I would rather indulge my body in your touch if tonight’s my last night on earth. It’s a combination of desperation and being perpetually horny. Don’t overthink it, Cromwell.”

She obviously doesn’t know me, because like the fiend I am for her, my mind hangs on every word she says, my cock already stiffening at the thought of breaking her strong will. I want her panting, helpless, frustrated as hell from losing to me and wanting me at the same time. I want that more than I want to know the real reason why we’re here or even to escape.

“Well, that was surprisingly easy,” the speaker interrupts. “If you two are done pretending you don’t want to fuck each other, it’s time to begin.”

I take the speaker’s pause as my cue to nudge Raiden’s arm. Immediate goosebumps form before she pulls away. “See, even they see it,” I grin, and her eyes roll.

“Whatever,” she sighs, brushing me off.

Instructions begin to pour from the speaker. “Just outside these doors is Round One. The obstacle round. First one to make it out of the maze and find the secret door wins.”

“Wins what?” we ask in unison.

“Learning just a glimpse of the reason you’re both here. You know, for two people who pretend to despise each other, you have much more in common than you think,” the voice drags.

“Yeah, okay,” Raiden breathes, exasperated, taking a step forward to the door.

A buzzer sounds like a factory alarm. “Not yet, Ms. Ramos. Challenge begins in fifteen seconds. Please line up and wait at the starting line just in front of the doorway.” We both stomp over to it, exchanging a look, both of us noticing that the line looks to be hand painted…in blood.

“Is that–” I begin hesitantly, but Raiden interrupts me.

“Yes, that’d be blood on the floor.” The calm way she answers me sends a shiver down my spine. It’s unnatural how at ease she is with all of this. But should I really be surprised? She works for Moretti after all.

Ignoring the endless questions invading my mind, I shrug, pretending to have just an ounce of the natural calm she has.

“I should’ve known blood wouldn’t make you flinch, since you work for a corrupt mobster,” I seethe, but my insult falls on deaf ears judging by her chuckling. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You. Corrupt mobster? The mob is corrupt by definition. That’s like saying an educated teacher and an adventurous adventurer. We get it.”

“You know what I meant. You work for him. Who the fuck knows how much blood is on your hands.”

“Hmm, so much blood has dripped from these hands,” she coos, wiggling her fingers. “I’ll tell you what, if we find ourselves in a bloodbath while we’re in here, and I have to woman up and kill someone, I’ll let you lick my fingers clean. How’s that sound, big boy?” she sneers like the fucking brat that she is. “Also, that’s only half true,” she adds.

My brow furrows in confusion, which she picks up on immediately. “The whole working for a mobster thing,” she says, practically giggling.

“Wha–” I’m cut off by the beeping of the timer.

“Good luck, you two. You’ll need it.”

“Ten,” the countdown begins.

I look at Raiden, her tongue swiping at her lips as she eyes me up and down, as if she’s ready for war.

Nine.

Eight.

I extend my arm her way, tapping at her shoulder, forcing her attention to me.

Seven.

“What?” she rolls her eyes.

Six.

“What am I half right about?” I press.

Her brow furrows at my question, purposely playing aloof.

Five.

“Raiden,” I press again

Four.

She rolls her eyes, making mine bulge in annoyance, my brow scuffing at the mask.

“That I work for Moretti.”

Three.

“I know,” I grit, yet the seriousness in my tone makes her giggle.

Two.

“And I’m his cousin.”

One.

“What?”

The buzzer sounds.

I expect Raiden to bolt, but she stays put with a devious grin on her face, as if she’s waiting for me to engage with her. Crowding her space, I grab her arm, loving how every inch of her flesh prickles in exhilaration.

“Oops, guess you didn’t learn that tidbit before you tracked me down,” she pouts, trying to be sarcastic, but it comes off unintentionally sultry as desire laces her every word.

My fist clenches at my side. I’ve never wanted to break someone in two so badly.

“You ready, papi?” she teases with legs spread and angled like she’s ready to run a marathon.

I grunt, trying to stifle the rush of feral desire that crept into my system hearing her call me papi, even if it was said jokingly.

“Yes, but I don’t think you are,” I grit, lowering my masked face to hers, watching how her eyes light up at my concealed proximity. “I’m very competitive,” I add, warning her.

She laughs. “Well considering how you did absolutely nothing to win me over from your brother, it looks like you have a lot to prove, pendejo. I’m going to warn you, I like being chased. Hope you can keep up,” she winks before sprinting off, forcing me to follow her.

As if I wouldn’t have anyway.