Wrong Series: Wrong Part 6

Did she really just mouth off to me? When did the weak little girl grow a pair of b.a.l.l.s? I have to straighten this out right now. The second she's no longer afraid of me is the second my life becomes absolute h.e.l.l. "What the f.u.c.k is wrong with you?" I spin to face her. "You want to die? You're going the right way about it, doll."

"Yeah, yeah." She twirls her hand in the air. "Again with the death threats." What the h.e.l.l has Caleb told her?

Pointing at Caleb, she wrinkles her brow. "You punched him!"

"He let you out! Of course I punched him." I take Caleb by the shoulders and push him to the door.

"You're a piece of s.h.i.+t!" she shouts, her face turning beet-red.

"Ria..." Caleb starts, but shuts up when I squeeze his shoulders.

"Ria? You f.u.c.king named her?"

Caleb ignores that question, and she points at him again. "He's your brother! You don't even care about your family."

Oh, now she's touched a sore spot. I feel heat flood my skin, causing me to press my fingers into my little brother's shoulders. "I know he's my f.u.c.king brother. I also know it's none of your d.a.m.n business. If you were so concerned about him maybe you shouldn't have kicked him in his b.a.l.l.s."

She looks at Caleb and her eyes go all soft and mushy-looking. Oh, f.u.c.k, it seems the b.i.t.c.h has it bad for my little brother. I never should have left him in charge of her.

"I had to! I'm sorry, Caleb." She redirects her attention to me. "I have been kidnapped, of course I'm going to try to escape. What do you expect me to do, just wait for you to kill me? I do have a basic will to live, you know? You, on the other hand, are just plain mean. You don't deserve a brother like him."

I grit my teeth, open the door, and shove Caleb outside. Slamming the door shut, I turn back to her. "You don't know anything about us, so I suggest you shut your mouth if you really do have a basic will to live."

"I know that he's nice, and you're not," she says, crossing her arms over her chest "Nice?" I laugh. "What do you think this is? A f.u.c.king summer camp? He's watching you. He's not your new friend. What next? You going to start braiding each other's f.u.c.king hair?"

She scowls at me, and I inch my way closer to her, forcing her to back up. I keep going until she's against the wall.

"Evidently, somehow you have my brother wrapped around your little finger, blubbering over some chick-flick c.r.a.p, and he's apparently too nice to stop you from escaping. So, from now on, you'll be in my room, or with me, twenty-four hours a day, until the debt is settled or I find a better place to put you. Do you hear me?"

Her eyes lock with mine, her teeth gritting as she rises to the challenge. "Oh, I hear you," she growls. "I heard the thirteen f.u.c.king death threats. I also heard that I was supposed to be out of this s.h.i.+t-hole after three days. You want to kill me, then f.u.c.king get on with it already. You want to spend every minute of the day with me?" She smiles. "I'm going to make your life h.e.l.l."

She's p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l. She's lost her f.u.c.king mind, or is on her f.u.c.king period, because she's turned into one ma.s.sive b.i.t.c.h. I clench my jaw, grip her arm, and yank her away from the wall, bringing her face so close to mine, our noses are actually touching. She's pulling in hard breaths, and each time she does I'm hyper-aware of those b.r.e.a.s.t.s of hers pressing against my chest. "You won't even so much as take a p.i.s.s without me watching you. How about that?"

"I tell you what, why don't you set yourself on fire, and maybe, just maybe, you'll get to see me p.i.s.s!"

I bow my head, sucking in a quick breath to try to hide the slight grin threatening to curve over my mouth. I should be livid as h.e.l.l that she's being so mouthy with me, but that smart-a.s.s mouth is hot, and that British accent could give f.u.c.king v.i.a.g.r.a a run for its money.

"I don't even want to breathe the same air as you," she shouts. "So you might as well just shoot me now."

"Oh, trust me, I'd love to f.u.c.king put myself out of this misery, but I'm not feeling up to scrubbing blood out of the carpet today." I jerk her closer to me, bringing her forehead level with my chin. I curl my lip at the sudden whiff I just got of her. She smells like absolute s.h.i.+t. "f.u.c.king h.e.l.l," I cough from the stench. "No wonder Caleb wanted to get you out of this room, you smell like open a.s.s!" I pull her behind me and reach for the door.

"That's what happens when you lock a girl in a room for four f.u.c.king days!" she says, and rips her arm out of my grasp.

At this point, treating her like a child may be my best bet. I open the door, s.n.a.t.c.h her by her wrists, and drag her into the hallway. She obviously no longer has a filter, no self-control, and absolutely no survival instincts. Maybe she's just lost her s.h.i.+t.

"Let go of me." She squirms. "You pikey criminal."

"Not a chance, doll." Laughing, I add, "And really, a criminal? That's a bit extreme, don't you think?" I can't help but smirk.

"You tried to f.u.c.king kill me a few days ago! If that doesn't make you a criminal then what does?" She pulls in a breath and I keep dragging her behind me as she continues to ramble about how cruel I am.

I turn at the end of the corridor and head for the bathroom.

"And you are absolutely, definitely, a ma.s.sive"-she struggles against me-"f.u.c.king a.r.s.ehole."

"You done?"

Her response; showing me her middle finger.

"Oh, really?" I bend, scooping her up and throwing her over my shoulder. My hand instinctually rests over her firm a.s.s. I could move it, but seeing as how I'm such an a.s.shole, I don't.

She screams, pounding her fists against my back. "What the f.u.c.k?" She shrieks again, and I clench my fingers into her a.s.s, causing her to tense. "You!" I feel her fingers clawing at the hem of my s.h.i.+rt, pulling it up. Next thing I know, my f.u.c.king t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es are being smashed in two by my boxers. The b.i.t.c.h actually just gave me a f.u.c.king wedgie!

"You're a f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h," I growl. She pulls harder, and I have to swallow because that s.h.i.+t hurts.

"Put me down!" she screams, the high-pitched squeal behind it piercing my ears.

"Oh, I'll put you the f.u.c.k down when I'm good and ready." I adjust her on my shoulder, clamping my arm around her thighs harder while I shove the shower door open. "From now on you're with me, or locked in my f.u.c.king room, which means we'll be spending some quality time together. Problem is, you smell like a f.u.c.king homeless person."

I reach over and twist the k.n.o.b, then I throw her down onto the shower floor. "How about now? Is this a good time to put you down, huh?" I watch the cold water pelt down over her, fighting a smile. She looks so d.a.m.n pathetic.

"Oh, you f.u.c.ker!" she screams, every muscle in her body clenching as the cold water hits her.

I smirk, bracing my arms against the shower door to block her exit. She jumps up and pounds against my chest. Droplets of water splash in my face with each smack she makes over my chest. It's ridiculous that she thinks those weak pushes of hers will do anything to get me away from her.

My eyes skim down her body. Caleb's oversized white s.h.i.+rt is soaked, which makes it very see-through and d.a.m.n near impossible to ignore those pert little nipples of hers straining against the thin material. f.u.c.k me, she has a good body, it's hard not to notice. I swallow, and, against my will, my c.o.c.k swells and presses against the zipper of my jeans. f.u.c.king great!

She catches me off-guard and punches me in the stomach. "Ow, motherf.u.c.ker!" she says as she shakes her fist.

I laugh as she hops around, holding her injured hand. "You done?"

I grab my crotch, nonchalantly adjusting my hard-on, which she takes note of; she swallows just before her face morphs into a scowl. She probably thinks she's about to get raped. I twist the k.n.o.b to the hot water, my gaze straying back down to her perky t.i.ts before locking on her face. "You can make everything a fight, but please understand that you'll f.u.c.king lose." She is going to love this next order. "Now, take your f.u.c.king clothes off!"

Her nostrils flare and her eyes flame. "Go f.u.c.k yourself, you perverted c.u.n.t," she hisses, her expression hard, her face still red.

I laugh. "c.u.n.t?" I ask, shocked at what a filthy little mouth she has on her. I give a half-a.s.s shrug and c.o.c.k a smile. "Have it your way." Grabbing the collar of her s.h.i.+rt with both hands, I shred it right down the middle, exposing her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" she yells, and scrambles to cover herself with the torn pieces of the s.h.i.+rt.

"I'm done f.u.c.king around with you, so take off your clothes and clean your a.s.s up!" I say as I raise a brow at her.

She glares at me, angry, hateful.

"Do it. Now!"

"I'll take a shower...if you get out." She's glaring at me through the wet strands of hair covering her face.

I shake my head and grin. "I don't think so. I step outta here and who knows what sort of trouble you'll get into." I lean against the shower wall, purposefully letting my eyes roam over her. I need her to feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. I have to break her down.

"There are no windows in here. I can't go anywhere except the door, which you can stand on the other side of."

Steam from the shower billows up toward the ceiling. She's trying her best to cover herself, but all she's managing to do is squeeze those f.u.c.king b.r.e.a.s.t.s of hers together and up, almost like a corset. I watch the water trickle between her cleavage, then down the rest of her body. The heat is flus.h.i.+ng the exposed, pale skin of her stomach. Her matted, honey-blonde hair is sticking to her neck and shoulders. She looks f.u.c.king s.e.xy as h.e.l.l like that. I shouldn't be getting so turned on by this, but d.a.m.n, my c.o.c.k doesn't have morals.

"Just do as you're told for once, woman, d.a.m.n!" I'm done. I can't help but think about how good it would feel to pin her up against the wall and f.u.c.k the s.h.i.+t out of her. This needs to stop. I need to get the h.e.l.l out of here.

I shake my head, closing my eyes for a second. "Just take off your d.a.m.n clothes and take the shower." I grab her tattered s.h.i.+rt and shred it even more, then yank it down her shoulders. The soaked material drops to the shower floor, and I grab the waist of the shorts she's wearing. She hits me and screams, but that doesn't faze me. "It's not like I've never seen a f.u.c.king woman naked, and it's not like I'm doing this to get off. I can't trust you," I say. She beats at me with her fists and causes me to lose my balance. Out of instinct, I grab onto her, my hands slipping over her wet, tight thighs. She falls silent, completely freezing in place. Quickly, she shoves the shorts the rest of the way down her legs.

Her arms tighten around her and she hunches over a little. She tries to hide her face from me, but I can still see it crumple before she peers up at me briefly. The moment her eyes meet mine, they squeeze closed.

I do feel a little guilty for doing this to her, but she really needs to learn not to test me. I reach into the shower and wrap my hand around the back of her slick neck. She flinches. Placing my lips on her ear, I growl, "Don't make me f.u.c.king repeat myself."

I feel her cower under my touch. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking.

I skim my fingers over her skin before I let my hand fall from her neck, and there's a deafening silence.

The splatter of the water against the tiles and the frantic sound of her quickening breaths seem so loud in this moment. I stare at her. Her eyes are still closed, her hands trying desperately to cover herself. I can tell she's fighting back the urge to cry. I watch the droplets of water bead and roll down her cheek, down her neck. Her pulse is visibly thumping in her throat.

Could this woman possibly be trying to f.u.c.k me over? She's gone from terrified to outright crazy, and now she's hiding in a corner afraid again. She has no idea what she's doing.

What the h.e.l.l am I doing?

I stumble back a few steps and watch her tiny form crammed in the corner, trying to hide from the crazed lunatic that put her there. I need to leave her alone so I can go punch my fist through a wall.

"Just take the f.u.c.king shower. I'll be over there." I point to the long granite countertop. "I won't look at you, but I'm not leaving you alone."

Her eyes remain trained on the shower floor as I back away, carefully shutting the gla.s.s door behind me.

I take a towel from the closet and drop it onto the mat, then lean against the sink like I promised. She's right, I could just wait outside, but I know now not to underestimate her. It's her dignity or mine.

Why in the h.e.l.l does s.h.i.+t like this have to happen? I catch a glimpse of the shower in the mirror. I can't see her through the fogged-up gla.s.s, but I can make out the outline of her body and I force myself to look away. Two minutes ago she was looking at me like a f.u.c.king rapist, and now here I am getting aroused from a f.u.c.king silhouette of her. Primal instinct is a b.i.t.c.h.

A few minutes later the shower turns off and the door slides open. I keep my gaze aimed at my boots, using every ounce of willpower I possess not to glance up at her.

"Did you see the towel?" I ask.

"Yes."

When I do look up, she's wrapped in the oversized towel, her wet hair falling down her back and dripping onto the floor.

The second I walk past her, she jumps away from me. I grab another towel from the closet, and circle my finger in the air. "Turn around."

She does as ordered, her body remaining tense as she nervously glances at me over her shoulder. I gather her thick hair and place it in the towel, rubbing it to dry the excess water from it. I skim down her exposed back, stopping on the rounded curve of her a.s.s.

"What are you doing?" she whispers.

I swallow hard. What the h.e.l.l am I doing? "You're dripping all over my floor," I tell her as I twist the towel around the ends of her damp hair and toss it over her shoulder. "Take it. I don't want puddles all over the f.u.c.king place." I try to sound as annoyed as possible.

She's quiet as I lead her down the hall to my room. I stand in the doorway and point to the dresser. "Find something to put on."

I start to leave, but catch myself. This girl's going to tear my f.u.c.king room apart looking for something to kill me with, probably. Chuckling at the thought, I go to my closet and grab the gun stashed on the top shelf, tucking it under my arm. I move on to the nightstand and collect my pistol, then grab the gun hidden beneath the mattress. I eye her as I head to the door, smirking. "Before you get any bright ideas and accidentally shoot yourself," I say as I shut the door, locking it with the key.

"a.r.s.ehole!" I barely hear her shout as I make my way down the stairs.

He slams the door in my face, a smug smirk on his lips.

"a.r.s.ehole!" I shout after him.

I pace across the room. The last place on earth I want to be right now is in Jude's room. I swear to G.o.d, that guy is bipolar. One minute he's screaming at me and degrading me, the next he's drying my hair. I get whiplash just from being around him. Quite frankly, I'd rather he just remained an a.r.s.ehole. I can take his temper more easily than I can take his kindness, not that I have to deal with it very often.

I scour his room, curious more than anything. I go to the dresser and pull open one of the drawers, half expecting to find an a.r.s.enal of weapons, but oh, no, he gutted the place because I can't be trusted not to shoot myself. p.r.i.c.k. I take a t-s.h.i.+rt out of the drawer and pull it over my head, dropping the towel. The material smells of him, without the added cigarette smoke. Clean and crisp without the taint of corruption that he carries like a bad smell. I can't find any shorts, so I settle for boxers, which weirds me out, because the only time I've ever worn a guy's boxers is after I've had s.e.x with him.

I survey the room, looking for clues about the man who lives here. There are very few. A picture of two women sits on the bedside table, but other than that it's bare, impersonal, almost unlived in.

I move to the window, pulling back the curtain to allow some light into the dingy man cave, only to find bars across the gla.s.s. Are you f.u.c.king kidding me? f.u.c.king bars! This place is literally a jail. I suddenly feel claustrophobic, trapped and enclosed. I'm stuck in this room, his room. What happens when he comes back? I've been in a room with this guy all of three times. The first time he strangled me, the second he force fed me, and the third he stripped me naked like the f.u.c.king pervert he is. I thought he was going to start having a w.a.n.k right there in front of me. The man is an animal, a filthy, disgusting animal. Oh, G.o.d, where am I going to sleep? I'm not sharing that bed with him. What if he tries to touch me? I saw the look on his face earlier, he's going to try and touch me. My chest feels tight at the prospect. If he wants me, he can have me, and there's not a d.a.m.n thing I can do about it. He's three times my b.l.o.o.d.y size, and I'm defenceless.

My eyes skitter across the room, searching for something, anything. There must be something in here. The guy has more weapons than a military regiment. I start frantically opening drawers. There must be a gun in here, a knife, something. I glance at the bathroom doorway, spotting the mirror hanging on the wall. Could I smash it? Use a shard of gla.s.s? No, too obvious. I don't want to attack him unless I have to. Weapon or not, the likelihood is that I will lose.

I storm into the bathroom and search the cabinets, until-bingo!-my eyes land on a disposable razor. I smile as I s.n.a.t.c.h it from the shelf, running my finger over it. It's not sharp, but it will do. I use the edge of the vanity to snap the plastic edge off, exposing the blade. It's not much, but if he tries to attack me, it may well make a difference. At this stage, I'll take all the help I can get.

An hour after I've left her in my room, I sit in my office with Marney.

He puffs on his cigarette, then twists it between his fingers. He says something to me, but I'm too lost in my own thoughts to process it, and I guess he can tell. Marney leans over my desk, his eyes set on mine with concern. "I know you don't want to believe it, Jude, 'cause I know you don't want to kill another woman-"

"I didn't kill the first one, you did."

He rolls his eyes. "All right, but things aren't looking good for her. You need to figure out what the h.e.l.l you're gonna do, son."

I clasp my hands behind my head and bend over my lap.

Marney huffs. I hear his chair creak, then I feel his hand rest on my shoulder. "I know, Jude. I know. It's not a situation you wanna be in, but you are. If she were a man, you'd kill her. You wouldn't question it, h.e.l.l, you wouldn't care if you were wrong or not, you'd just kill the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. A life is a life, regardless what's between the person's legs." He pats me a few times and starts coughing.

I exhale and look up at him.

"David had the kid's line tapped, and he's been asking Joe when he can give you the money, Joe said he wants to give her a little more time to burn your face into her memory. Wise to it or not, that girl's gonna cause your death." He shakes his head; frail grey wisps of hair catch in the air and he quickly smooths them back out. "You gotta get her outta here. And I'm sorry to say, if you let her outta here alive, well..." He walks to the door, stopping to shoot me one last pitiful glare. "I guess if she walks outta here alive, Joe'll have you killed in a matter of hours."

The door shuts behind him and I'm left alone. This is the first time in a long time I've felt like I'm going to completely lose it. I think this may be panic. My pulse is going ninety to nothing; my thoughts are all jumbled, I can't even make sense of them; my entire body is coated in a thick sheen of sweat; and all I want to do is break something.

So what if Euan is Joe's nephew? And Marney had the dips.h.i.+t's line tapped and Joe mentioned Victoria to him. That doesn't mean she knows why she's here...does it? The fact that I don't want her to be involved is concerning, to say the least, but what I really can't handle is the fact that I've been set up. That is crystal-f.u.c.king-clear. I am no longer in control of this situation, and I do not like that.

I leap from my chair and pace, dragging my hands through my hair. All I can think about is how f.u.c.ked up this all is. I've been set up by the man who killed my mother and sister. I've never been outsmarted, and that's what Joe's just done. That man ruined my life once, and he's trying to do it again.

This stops right here. I need to know whether she's involved with Joe. I know that as soon as I mention this s.h.i.+t to the other guys, all h.e.l.l will break loose. I have to be certain she is working for Joe. Without a shadow of a doubt certain. That's not going to be easy.

I stare through the thick nicotine haze. Each of my uncles' eyes are wide and set on me because of what I just disclosed to them.

Bob runs his hands down his face, his fingers sc.r.a.ping over his short stubble. "Set up?" He shoots out of the recliner and paces the living room. "By a f.u.c.king woman?" he yells.

Shaking my head, I clarify. "No, by Joe."