Chapter 8

8

Maddie

A fter drinking all day in the bar with Celeste, I'm so drunk I can't even stand up when RJ and Thane show up at the bar. I wait for a third man to follow them inside, assuming they had to work late to get caught up on jobs. After fifteen minutes, I know because I keep checking my phone and trying to call him, Jordan is still a no show.

I may have told him that I needed space, and that I was pissed at him for going to a PI to dig up information about me, but I still can't help but worry about him.

"Hey, RJ!" I shout to the man sitting at the bar since I'm not entirely sure I can walk over there. When he looks over his shoulder at my table and gives me a nod, I say, "Where's Jordan?"

"He was going to sweep up and said he would be right behind us."

"You left him at the shop alone?" I huff in disbelief.

"He was supposed to be here already," it sounds like Thane mutters to RJ.

"How could you two leave him at the shop where there was a dead body hanging earlier today?" I ask as I push my chair back and try to close the distance between us. I stagger from one chair to the next table to the next until I reach the bar and cling to it right between the two men. "Well?" I ask them.

"Maddie, you're drunk, and since you probably won't remember this, I'm going to go ahead and say it," Thane explains. "Who the fuck is killing people? Is Jordan in danger? If so, maybe you should've fucking said something before now!"

"Whoa." I physically recoil from his unexpected attitude and fall into RJ who grabs my waist to keep me upright.

"Leave her alone," Celeste says. "It's not Maddie's fault some lunatic is out there killing people!"

"No, but she could've at least told us what she knows," Thane remarks. "Or will you wait for the next person to die before revealing your secret past?"

"Go!" I tell him, pointing toward the door. "Get your ass on your bike and go get Jordan!"

"I don't take orders from you," he says as he slips off his stool. "But I will go check on Jordan because he's my friend and your secrets could put him in danger."

"No kidding! So why did you leave him there alone?"

"Jordan's a grown man with a gun. He can take care of himself," RJ replies. "But maybe we should go see what the holdup is. I thought he would be here by now."

"Right! Go! And tell him I'm still mad at him but I want to see him. And talk to him. And touch him."

"Okay, Maddie," RJ says as he steers me to a pulled-out chair at the closest table, urging me down to sit in it. "She obviously can't ride on a bike like this," he tells someone.

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," Celeste says. "But first, go check on Jordan."

The two men stroll out the door not the least bit in a hurry while my heart is trying to beat out of my chest. I try to call Jordan again, but his phone just keeps ringing before it goes to voicemail. "Jordan, it's me. Where are you? I thought you were going to pick me up at the bar, but you're not here yet and I miss you. I hate fighting with you, so please get your ass over here or at least call me to let me know you're okay. You shouldn't be out alone. The Kings wouldn't let any of the women wander around alone after two murders, but apparently, it's fine for you guys since you carry guns. Please hurry up," I say again before I end the call.

"He's probably just closing up," Celeste says when she slides a glass of water in front of me. "Hydrate so you're not as fall-down-drunk when he gets here."

I pick up the glass and chug it while counting the minutes. Waiting, and waiting while watching the door.

When the ding of a half a dozen devices go off at the same time, the knot of worry in my gut turns to cement.

"What is it?" I look around the room and ask the men who all jump up from their chairs or stools. "What is it?!" I yell at them getting to my own unsteady feet.

"Jordan wasn't at the shop," Greer says coming out from behind the bar. "His bike was there but..."

"No." I shake my head, repeating that one word over and over again. "NO! Go find him!" I shout at the men wanting to blame them when the guilt is eating me up. This is my fault. Jordan is gone and I know who took him. He can't kill him. He can't!

I pick up my phone, wishing I had the monster's number. I don't, but I do remember my father's.

For a long moment, I consider whether or not to call him and tell him to call off his dog, to demand that he not hurt Jordan.

"We'll find him. We have to because Colt will kill me if we don't," Remy says, grim faced as he leads the group of Savage Kings out the door.

This can't be happening. The last words I spoke to Jordan…I was so angry at him. Now I wish I could take it all back because…no. He's going to be okay. He has to be.

As soon as they walk out, I dial the number I've never had to type into my phone before...and a young man's voice answers.

"Yeah?"

"I need to speak to my father right now."

"No kidding? I can be your daddy," the voice says with a chuckle.

He wouldn't dare make that joke if he knew who my father was. So, I say, "I'm trying to reach Dante Salvato."

"Then you've got the wrong number, babe," he replies before ending the call.

"Shit!" Either I'm too drunk to remember all nine digits or I have it wrong. A quick search later, and I'm calling up the reservation desk of my father's hotel and casino.

"The Royal Palace. How may I help you today?" a pleasant feminine voice asks.

"My name is Madison Salvato and I need to speak to my father Dante Salvato."

"Well, that's funny since Mr. Salvato doesn't have any children."

My jaw drops open at her blatant lie. "Yes, he does! He has three daughters, you stupid cunt! Now find him and get him on the phone."

There's an indignant gasp before she ends the call. "Dumb bitch!" I huff while trying the number again, hoping I can speak to someone else, someone who knows my father has children. I should've asked to speak with someone in security.

My father was so overprotective that most of his employees never knew my sisters and I lived in the hotel penthouse with him, and he rarely let us leave it. But the call doesn't even ring this time, it's just a recording saying the person I'm trying to reach is unavailable.

That bitch blocked my number!

If I ever go back to Vegas, I will find her and kill her myself.

Jordan

Where the hell am I?

And what the fuck happened?

One second the blond bastard and I were trading punches in the garage and the next… I remember he hit me, took me to the ground. Then the asshole sat on top of me, his arm across my throat cutting off my oxygen.

And I liked it.

Not the loss of consciousness part but when he was on top of me and rock hard.

Now I'm…lying dead ass naked on some kind of small table across from a cramped kitchen in what appears to be a…travel camper? There are sheets of black plastic on the walls covering the windows and the floor. The kind of plastic serial killers use for easy clean up.

No. This can't be fucking happening.

When I try to rub my fingers over my bleary eyes, they don't reach my face because there are thick metal cuffs on my wrists attached to chains that must be bolted to the floor.

The table is low enough that with my long legs hanging off the edge, my bare feet are flat on the floor. But when I try to lift my legs, two more chains rattle around me, then catch about six inches off the floor.

Oh, yeah. That son of a bitch in the suit is definitely going to kill me. I'll deserve it too.

He's right. I have a wife so amazing I couldn't have thought to even dream of her before we met, a wife who spreads her legs for me morning, noon, and night, and I couldn't stop thinking about being with a man.

Oh, and then I got excited by some psycho kicking my ass. And let him capture me like a little bitch. The same psycho who killed two men after digging out their eyeballs and…fucking the sockets.

I'm going to die with Maddie hating me…

"Ah, you're finally awake," the jackass says when he strolls over, his tall, wide frame blocking out most of the light. Even so, my head begins to throb. He stands over me looking even bigger and more dangerous from this angle. "I had to bop you on the head when you got rowdy in transit. Doubt you would even notice if there was any brain damage."

With his suit jacket off, his shoulders look even wider, stretching the fabric of his button-down so thin I can nearly see through the white material. Both the sleeves are rolled up his thick forearms, revealing the kind of corded muscle only serious athletes have. I shouldn't be admiring the man who is going to take my eyeballs and kidnap my wife.

"Who are you?" I ask him since he never told me his name or how he knows Maddie. Definitely not a cop. No, he's the murderer the cops are looking for. "What…what do you want with Maddie?"

"My name is Eli Murphy, but I'm known around Vegas as Eligor, the man who tortures the enemies of mafia king Dante Salvato."

"If you say so. And who the fuck is Dante Salvato?"

"Dante is Maddie's overly protective, extremely violent mobster father."

It takes longer than it should for all the pieces to fall into place. "Oh, fuck."

Leaning over, he slaps my cheek several times in a row. "Oh, fuck is right, baby boy. You kidnapped the wrong mafia princess."

"I didn't kidnap Maddie. She begged to come home with me. I didn't know who she was."

"Would you have refused her a ride if you had known who she was?" he asks.

"No," I answer without hesitation.

"Then you are as stupid as you look. It's a shame too. I hate killing the pretty ones."

He reaches down and brushes the hair off my forehead as he stares at me in that way. And did he just call me pretty again?

I should be more concerned by the part he said about killing me but is he openly admitting that he's attracted to me?

If that can help me get out of these chains so I can escape and kill him to keep him away from Maddie, then I have no problem going with it. Especially since I've been wondering what his massive body looks like naked from the moment he strutted into the garage.

Oh, fuck. That's so messed up. I hate myself for just thinking it.

Besides, this guy is all talk. He won't lay a finger on Maddie, not if what he said is true and he works for a ruthless mobster, Maddie's father. But he will try to take her back to Vegas, even if she fights him every step of the way. And as easy as he was able to overpower me, Maddie won't stand a chance.

"Kill me. Just kill me now and get it over with," I tell him, changing my mind. I'd rather die than cheat on Maddie, even if it's my only chance of walking out of this alive. I don't care if she has been lying about who she is and our marriage for an entire fucking year. I still love her. Whoever the hell she is.

"That's not how this works, Jordan," Eli replies, using my name like we're old friends. "I like to play with my food before I kill it."

His fingernails flick my cock painfully to show me how he plans to play with me.

I try to play it cool and calm. "So, I guess this is going to go a little differently from the last time I was kidnapped."

"You've been kidnapped before? When?" the man, Eli, asks. His chiseled jaw is clenched, and he looks genuinely aggravated, like he wanted to be the first to hold me captive.

"Few years back. Rival biker club who are now all Savage Kings, but the first rule in Rockland is you don't fuck with the Savage Kings."

Ignoring my threat, he says, "How long were you their captive?"

"Several hours."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No. I just got thrown around the back of a van."

Now he grins wickedly. "Then buckle up, buttercup, because you're going to be in agony before I kill you. I'll be surprised if you can last hours with me."

"Oh, I can last," I assure him.

"So, cocky," he says, flicking my dick again with his fingernail. "Wish I could stay and play a little more with you, but it's time for me to go bring you a friend. Then, once he's taken care of, I can finally catch up with Maddie." Reaching down he grabs himself through his pants and moans, "Fuck, I've missed her tight sexy body. Did you know that I was her first?"

I shake my head, since I did not know that. In fact, I think he's probably lying until he says, "I popped her pussy cherry over the dinner table while choking her until her squirming body went limp underneath me."

Holy fucking shit.

"Her ass cherry, well, I pulled her out of the bathtub, made her get my dick nice and wet with her mouth, then took her naked and dripping wet on her bathroom floor."

Okay, that's way too much detail to be lies. Unless he has a very active imagination.

"Her virgin pussy was tight, but her virgin ass…" He presses his pinched fingers to his lips and kisses them. "Exquisite."

And while I'm jealous I wasn't her first, something I always knew, I'm also getting aroused thinking about her and him together which is definitely fucked up.

The fucker's violent gaze goes right down to my cock when it twitches and lengthens in interest.

Fuck, I hate being naked and restrained, unable to hide that shit.

"Oh, well, what do we have here?" he asks leaning closer to eye my semi-erection up close and personal. So close I can feel the warmth of his breath on it and can't help but think about how his mouth would feel on it.

"It's been a while since anyone actually enjoyed being at my mercy." Dark blue eyes lift to mine as he runs a single fingertip down my shaft and lower to my balls, making me groan and my entire body shiver. "You have no idea how terrified straight men get when I play with their dicks or my own when they're in agony. It's almost as if being touched by another man is a fate worse than death." He cups my balls in his large, calloused hand, then rolls them around gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through them. When I shudder again, he huffs out a laugh I feel on my hardening dick. "But you're not entirely straight, are you, baby boy?"

His palm slides up, fingers curling around my erection, fisting me, stroking me so tight, so good.

"Oh, god," I moan as my hips thrust upward into his grip. I don't know if it's the fear or that he's a man, or the confinement of the restraints or what, but I'm about four and a half strokes away from coming in this murdering bastard's hand.

"I hate killing the pretty ones," he repeats again while his tattooed hand keeps jerking me off, moving faster and faster as I pump up into it. "But Dante wouldn't let you live, so I can't either."

At the swipe of his hot wet tongue on my slit, I jerk and buck against the chains as precum leaks free from me, giving away how close I am to coming. Another swipe of his tongue to lick the salty liquid up, and then his hand releases me before he steps away from the table.

"No," I growl in frustration to the ceiling, my limbs all going limp in disappointment.

"I kill, I tease, I torture," the fucker says. "And I do it all for my pleasure, not yours."

Then he just turns around and walks to the camper door, grabbing his suit jacket on the way out, leaving me lying there naked and aching with blue balls.

The only thing worse than being left hanging on the edge while facing death is wondering if the asshole is going to tell Maddie I'm bisexual and enjoyed every second of him touching me.

I sure as fuck don't want that to be the last thing she learns about me, that I've been lying to her too all this time.