Chapter 6

I utter a pained groan as I attempt to open my eyes, but they’re heavy.

“You’ll be fine, baby doll,” he whispers gently, his voice a soothing comfort. “You’re out of danger.”

My skin breaks into goosebumps all over, coldness taking over me. The heaviness of a cotton blanket is pulled up high and wrapped around my arms, but it’s no help. Blinking my eyes open to see his gorgeous face, for a second, I think I must still be dreaming. I’ve dreamt of his face so many times over the last six months, it feels unusual for him to be real in the flesh, sitting by my bed.

My gut tells me to run, a surge of adrenaline filling my veins, but when I try to move, I realize my body feels like it’s been injected with lead. I couldn’t sit up, let alone make a run for it.

His hand takes mine, squeezing lightly as something is stabbed into the side of my other leg.

“Ricky,” I murmur his name, staring up at him. I’m scared. He takes my hand and laces our fingers together. I’m too weak to fight the strange kind gesture, so I let him. Confusion overwhelms me, making me feel washed out again, and my heavy eyelids shut. They flicker open and closed as I try to fight it. Another figure comes into view. I can’t quite make him out, but he’s vaguely familiar in a way I don’t understand. I try to focus my eyes on his face, but the need for sleep is too overwhelming.

“Rest now, my princess. You’re going to need it,” comes a familiar voice as he strokes my hair tenderly until sleep takes over my weary body.

“Marco!” my brother’s name escapes my lips in a blood-curdling scream, but I can’t get to him. I am confined by a pair of incredibly strong arms. Struggling against him, I try calling for my brother again, tears blurring my vision. I need to help him. “Marco,” I cry.

As I shove against my captor, a sharp stabbing pain shoots through my side. Reaching for the source of pain, I realize I’m trapped, with large arms wrapped around me tightly. Panic overwhelms me, and fear snaps me back to reality.

From a chair at my side, piercing blue eyes find mine, his full lips turning up at the sides when he notices I’m awake. “Morning, baby doll.”

Morning? My heart races wildly. Frantically, I scan my environment. Gripping at the soft sheets under me, I realize I’m not in my own bed, or the place where I passed out, but a lavish bedroom, twice the size of my room back in my papa’s house, in a large bed with a decorative iron headboard. That’s what my wrist is attached to. As Ricky moves closer to the bed, I hurriedly try to move toward the opposite wall to escape from him, but the agony shooting down my leg won’t let me. An aggrieved groan flies from my lips.

“Shh, Harley, you’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says with a soothing voice that confuses me. “Do you need something for the pain?”

I meet his eyes, my heart racing out of my chest. What kind of twisted hellhole is this? First, his guard shoots me for trying to escape him, then he performs surgery to fix me. Now I’m being held captive by him, and he talks to me like this is all a normal Tuesday.

Tenderly, he touches my cheek and gently strokes my face. I’m completely paralyzed, unable to move or barely speak. Staring back, watching him, I wait for him to enlighten me on why I’m being held against my will. I should feel scared. This man is capable of terrible things, but something in the way he looks at me and touches me so lightly makes me feel safe with him, even though I know I’m not.

“Can you swallow?” he asks, his eyes lingering on my mouth longer than they should.

I blink back at him. “Pardon me?” I whisper. What the hell is he talking about?

He cocks a cheeky brow. “Pain meds? I can give you a pill or injection. What do you prefer?”

Slowly, I shake my head from side to side. “I have no interest in taking anything from you,” I snap back, knowing how irrational I sound when I’ve just been shot. But right now, I don’t care. I just want to get out of here.

His lip twitches. “Okay, but you’re going to regret that decision majorly when the last dose completely wears off.” Withdrawing his hand, he makes his way to the door .

A sense of panic engulfs me at the prospect of being left alone here in this strange room. “Wait, please. Where am I?” I ask, desperately needing answers before he leaves me.

“Somewhere safe.”

Safe. Safe from who? Definitely not him. He has me wounded and tied up, his prisoner. I attempt to lift myself up in the bed by utilizing the bars for support. My left side throbs with pain so terrible it makes my eyes water. When I glance down, I notice I’m not wearing the pink waitress uniform I was dressed in when I blacked out. My blood-stained attire has been replaced with an oversized white T-shirt. With my free hand, I touch the worn fabric, not really believing it. This is my shirt, one I used to sleep in before… It was left at my father’s house before the fire engulfed it. And that’s not the creepiest thing going on here. Who the hell changed me? Ricky? The thought is more horrifying than being trapped in some random bed, unable to walk. “Where are my clothes?”

He stops, then turns back toward me, his brow raised. “You came close to death last night, and that’s what you’re worried about?”

My glare goes ice-cold. I might be powerless and locked up here like a fucking dog, but I want answers, and he’s damn well going to give them to me.

“You destroyed your uniform trying to run from me,” he finally says.

I wince, trying to move. “Your guard shot me,” I remind him. They destroyed my clothes and now he stands there all casual about it, like none of this is a big deal. I suck in a sharp breath as I shuffle my body up the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it’s no use. With the aching in my leg, I’m not going to find comfort any time soon .

His hand rests on the door handle but he doesn’t turn it and leave. Instead, he watches me, his face softening. “Harley, you’re in a lot of pain. I can see it in your face. Let me fetch you something for it. I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt.”

“Ha,” I scoff. That’s bullshit. I want to say no, tell him to shove his meds where the sun doesn’t shine, no matter what they are, but I need to get out of here more. And I can’t do it while the ache in my leg is all I can think about. Reluctantly, I nod then watch as he leaves the room, pleased I have agreed to accept his drugs.

What does he even mean, he doesn’t enjoy seeing me in pain? I’m hurt because of him, quite literally. Scanning my prison, I look for clues to where he’s brought me, but I don’t recognize a thing. The room is adorned with creamy off-white walls, luxurious carpeting, a window on the opposite side, and an additional entrance. Sheer drapes sway gently in the breeze of the open window, the slight salty scent of the ocean lingering in the air. In the sky, the sun is glowing; it must be close to midday. Hopefully, I was only out of it for a day, but when Ricky has been shooting me up with pain meds, who knows how long I have been in here like this? The open window showcases heavy metal bars. The kind you would expect to see in an actual prison. This place may seem extravagant, but the bars on the window hint at a different reality. And I’m not dumb enough to assume they put them on after I arrived on their doorstep. Nope, this room was already set up like this. I would bet my life on it.

Shortly, he comes back holding a glass of water and two white tablets. I follow him around the room, watching as he places them both on the bedside table, then goes back to lock the door with a key. He moves over to the window, pulling the curtains back further so more light floods into the room. He’s wearing tailor-made black pants that fit him perfectly, showcasing his ass, paired with a dark button-up shirt rolled up at the sleeves, which reveals double sleeves of tattoos. In my head he appeared so terrifying, but watching him move about now, he hardly seems as scary in the light of day. But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to think he’s not going to hurt me.

His eyes find mine. I probably shouldn’t make it so obvious I’m watching his every move, but I can’t drag my eyes away from him either. Who the fuck is this guy and what does he and his monster-tattoo-wearing brother want with me?

“Tramadol,” he tells me when I keep my eyes locked with his. “It’s safe, take it.”

“Safe,” I huff. Nothing about this place or him is safe. How dense does he think I am?

“I’m a doctor. Well, kind of.” Something flashes in his expression. Hurt, maybe? “I know how to administer the correct dose of pain meds, Harley, take them.”

I gaze at him with a perplexed expression. Is he really a doctor? He doesn’t look old enough to have done eight years of medical school or however many you would have to do. Either way, I don’t have many other options right now. The throb of pain is taking over, and I don’t want to push it any longer.

Tossing the pills into my mouth, I wash them down with icy-cold water, praying they take effect quickly because I have another problem. My bladder is protesting louder by the minute. And right now, I’m not sure how I will walk, let alone make it to a bathroom to wee. I wriggle my toes in my injured leg, testing them out. There is some movement, it’s just laced with a ton of pain.

“What is it?” Ricky asks, studying me with an expression I don’t quite understand. It appears to be concern, but this asshole couldn’t actually care.

I scowl, not wanting to ask him for anything, but in my current situation, he’s left me with no choice but to have to rely on him. Bet the disgusting human he is gets off on this shit. The thought is disturbing, but now is no time for modesty. “I need the bathroom.”

He moves closer. “I’ll take you.”

My eyes go wide. I don’t want him anywhere near me. “No. Just show me where it is, and I can go alone.”

His lips turn up at the side in that grin again. “Sorry, baby doll, but I’m under strict instructions not to let you out of my sight for anything. You also won’t be able to get there alone.” He motions to the other side of the room. “Have you forgotten about your leg?”

“How could I forget that some asshole shot me?” I snap back at him. He’s pissing me off now.

“I’ve sent Maddox to get you crutches, along with some other supplies, but until he gets back from town, I will have to help you around this place,” he says, ignoring my comment.

He comes closer, running his fingers delicately up my arm like he can’t help but touch me to make sure I’m real. I watch him, not sure what to do. He’s so gentle with me and watches me with a warmth I don’t understand, like he knows me, like I’m someone to him. When he finally unlocks the chain, freeing my hand, he massages my wrist. Having his hands on me feels way too normal. Too comfortable. Why am I enjoying his obvious attempt to throw me off balance. I should shove him away, but instead, I keep gazing up at him, enjoying the way his fingers slide over my skin.

Finally, he extends his hand, waiting for me to grasp it. “You need to be careful; you could be lightheaded after losing so much blood yesterday.”

Yesterday. At least now I know how long I’ve been in this place. I wonder if Dani is worrying about me. I should have started my shift at the diner by now. I was late once in the last six months, and I had fifteen missed calls from her. I can only imagine how many there are now since I’ve been missing since I took off yesterday afternoon. She’s going to be frantic. Ian will be as well. I was supposed to meet him last night. If I make it out of this alive, he’ll kill me himself for putting myself in such a dangerous situation. And he would be well within his rights too. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I guess hindsight and all that.

Using my hands, I can maneuver my legs over the bed’s edge, taking my time, before I glance back at his outstretched hand. Hesitantly, I accept it, needing the support to stay balanced. His muscles flex as my weight transfers over to him. Something passes between us, an unusual surge of energy. My hand in his feels so natural. I go to pull back, but like he can sense my unease, he grips me tighter, wanting me to feel whatever this is between us.

“You’re safe with me, Harley.” His voice comes over me like a blanket, warm and comforting. But I don’t believe him. Not for a second.

His gaze, filled with reassurance, remains locked with mine, running the length of my body, lingering as he takes in my bare legs, wearing only a shirt and panties. “Stop looking at me like that,” I snap. I might be helpless, but I’m not beyond using my words to make it clear he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself, or I will do whatever I can to stop him. I glance down his arm and see the black bruise I left with my teeth last night. It wasn’t enough to get away from him, but knowing I could hurt him still feels satisfying.

He laughs, not giving two shits about my little outburst. Did he have a hand in changing me last night when I was passed out? I don’t have a chance to ask him before he pulls me closer to his side, supporting my weight with ease .

I test out my good leg, trying to put a little pressure on my injury, but stabbing pain shoots through my thigh, and I stumble forward.

Ricky’s right there to catch me and offer support, pulling me tighter into his body. “I can carry you if it’s easier,” he offers.

I glare daggers at him. Not a fucking chance, buddy.

“Okay. We can try it your way, but don’t say I didn’t offer to make it easier for you.” Helping me to a door in the back of the room, he pushes it open to reveal an opulent bathroom, tiles in a soft green, a large free-standing tub and open shower. Another window, this one also adorned with heavy metal bars. This place is locked up tight. I get a sinking feeling, knowing there really is no way out, even when my leg has healed.

“I’ve got it from here,” I tell him, my voice tight. My hand finds the wall, clinging to it for support. The bitchy expression plastered on my face tells him to fuck off now that he’s helped me here. He’s not coming inside the bathroom with me.

“Door stays open,” he grunts.

My eyes flick back to him, full of fire, ready to fight him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” he says, face deathly serious.

Fuck. “I can’t go with you watching me,” I mutter, disgusted. What kind of fucked-up shit is this?

“After the stunt you pulled last night, what exactly did you expect to happen? I can’t trust you to do the right thing, so here we are. You’re stuck with me watching your every move until Alex works out what to do with you.”

Who the hell is this Alex they keep talking about? He says his name like I should understand, but I don’t know any Alex. My bladder protests again, telling me my situation is getting desperate. I glance at the toilet, then back at him. I really am busting. “For fuck’s sake,” I mumble under my breath.

Using the wall to help me over to the toilet, I take a quick glance and see that Ricky has finally faced the other way. So, I hold on to the towel rail to lower myself down, do what I need to do, and then use it to help me stand back up. Flushing the toilet and hobbling back around the room over to the sink, the mirror tells a horrid tale. I could be cast in a zombie movie with the current shade of my skin. Chapped lips and a graze down one side of my face where the skin’s broken. Bruises coat my arms, telling everyone the story of how hard I fought against him. And I know I did, but it wasn’t enough.

Splashing water on my face in an attempt to revive myself is pointless. Last night, he claimed I was on the verge of death, and I distinctly remember what I heard before losing consciousness. He was filled with panic. Despite being the cause of my pain, he still didn’t want me to die. Why? What does he and this guy Alex want with me?

The reflection of the shower behind me looks amazing, and I desperately need one after all I’ve gone through in the last twenty-four hours. But I’m not doing it with Dr. prison guard watching me, so I guess that little luxury will just have to wait till I escape this hellhole. Wherever I am.

With the help of the wall, I regain my balance and slowly limp back to the doorway. Once again, he envelops me with his massive arms. “I’ve got it,” I tell him, trying to shove him away with what’s left of my strength, but he ignores me, embracing me tightly and helping me all the way to the bed. I sit on the edge gingerly.

He gazes down at me, a heady silence hanging in the air between us. One that only sends my mind further into overdrive. “Are you more comfortable now? ”

“Ricky, what am I doing here?” I plead with desperate eyes for him to enlighten me.

When I saw him and Maddox yesterday in the diner, I thought my idea to tail them was genius. I could find out a bit about them, hopefully get my revenge like I had been imagining every night for six months. That was when I thought they were the thugs that broke into my father’s place as a home invasion gone wrong. But now the warning that Ian gave me the following day makes more sense. He told me to disappear. Never to come back to my charred family home and to break all contact with anyone I knew because of my father. He wouldn’t tell me what he knew, only that I was in trouble if I stayed. I never went back. There was nothing left to stay for anyway. I could have jumped on a plane and gone back to college, but I’m smart enough to know that would be the first place they would look for me. Whoever it was I needed to be hidden from.

He reclasps the chain keeping me attached to the bed, then walks back toward the door, and I know I’m about to be left alone without the answers I desperately need.

My body is coiled so tight with tension from being so far out of control. “How do you know who I am?” I ask, trying for any scrap of information he might care to share with me before he leaves me alone.

He pauses for a split second and looks at me like he’s going to tell me, then he moves toward the door, using his key to unlock it.

Tears of frustration well in my eyes. “Why won’t you answer any of my questions?” I plead with him. Although I would rather not have him around, I also don’t want to be left alone, uncertain about what will happen next. It’s unnerving.

“Sorry, baby doll. Get some rest, I’ll bring you lunch soon,” he says before closing the door and locking it tight .

“She’s awake,” I overhear him tell someone just outside my room. “Maybe give her a little time to rest before you interrogate her.”

“I want answers, Ricky. Where the fuck has she been?” the second voice says with an angry edge to it that I don’t like the sound of.

“She’s not up for it today,” Ricky says, and I’m grateful I don’t have to meet whoever the voice is attached to. Ricky is protecting me for now, anyway.

I stare into the empty room with more questions on my mind than answers. What the hell did I walk into? This time yesterday I was starting my shift at the diner, thinking my biggest problem was how to make rent this week. Now I’m a prisoner, with the devil as my doctor.