Neil (The Uncompromising Series Book 2) (18 page)

Foreign words filled the space around me, urgent and soft, and their rhythm wrapped me up in a comfort I couldn’t explain as tears I couldn’t wipe burned hot and helpless down my cheeks. My hair stuck to my face and I wanted his arms around me. I wanted my boy. I wanted them both in the same space, and I wanted out of here. I wanted it so bad that it scared the shit out of me because everything I’d ever wanted in my life never happened.

“You are going to be fine. Your son is safe.” Switching back to English, he’d said the words like he could see right into my heart.

“You don’t know that.”

“I promise you that.”

Before I could tell him he wasn’t in a position to promise anyone anything, the door burst open.

C
ANDLE WALKED IN FLANKED BY
two more tatted-up assholes in matching vests. As one of the new guys turned to shut the door, I saw
Lone Coasters
written across the back of his vest in large white caps with a detailed skull and alligator emblem below it. My mind tried to make a connection.

I closed my eyes to search my memory for something I was sure I should be grasping but Candle grabbed my hair again.

“Come to your senses, sweetheart?”

I glared at him because he wasn’t the type of man you backed down from. He fed off fear. “If by senses, you mean telling you to fuck off, then yeah,
fuck off
.”

He chuckled and inclined his head at the two other jerks. They flanked Viking and I fought not to show my panic.

“You wanna fuck, sweetheart? No problem.” Candle grabbed his junk. “How about we give your boyfriend a little taste of what he’s missing? I know how much you like to show it off.”

I almost choked when he said
boyfriend
, my eyes swinging to Viking.

Viking gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Touch her and you will regret it.”

Candle grinned and hefted a chuck of my hair. “I already touched her. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He glanced at Viking and smirked. “And she loved every second of it.” His eyes glued on Viking, he gathered all my hair in both of his hands and leaned down to my ear. Metal, oil, and bitter musk filled my nostrils as hot breath landed on my shoulder. “Bet you didn’t know she likes it rough.” He licked my neck.

The two guys laughed and Viking’s nostrils flared.

I barely resisted recoiling in disgust. “No woman likes a small dick.”

He was upright and in front of me in less than half a breath. Thrusting his hips in my face, he pulled my head back by my hair. “Maybe you need a reminder of just how big I really am.”

I forced a laugh but it came out like a choked gasp. “Maybe I need a reminder period, because your shit wasn’t memorable
at all
.”

His eyes narrowed and his chest heaved. “Where are my guns, bitch?”

“Up your ass,
dick
.”

Fury slid across his face and I thought he’d hit me again. Instead, he backed up, slow and calculated, then he did something much more terrifying. He walked out.

One of the vests shook his arm out and a metal stick he’d been holding extended to three times its length. A sick grin spread across his face and he moved behind me a second before Viking barked out my name.

“
Ariella
.”

Sharp pain jabbed into my sore back and radiated out like a thousand degrees of hell. I opened my mouth to scream but the agony of excruciating torture stole the air from my lungs.

“You are a dead man,” Viking thundered.

“Tell us where the guns are or I make her scream.”

I didn’t have time to catch my breath. The metal stick dug into my back like the blade of a knife and an inhuman shriek curdled past my lungs and rattled out of my mouth. My back arched, my arms went rigid and my legs tried to kick out. Tape ripped and the pressure on my wound increased.

I saw stars.

“Stop.”
Viking’s chains rattled.

“Address,” my torturer demanded.

My ears started to ring.

Viking rattled off a number and a name.

The pressure left my back but my vision tunneled. Desperate not to pass out, I bent forward as far as the pain and tape would let me. Right before I dropped my head, I saw the asshole with the stick stride over to Viking.

The slap of metal hitting flesh then the thud of it connecting with bone echoed off the concrete walls.

“That address better pan out. Otherwise, when I come back, you’re going to watch her bleed.” Two sets of heavy boots thundered across the floor and the door slammed shut.

“Breathe, Ariella.” Quiet and soft, Viking spoke my name like a caress.

Something close to a memory flared and I took in a breath, but everything felt like it was on fire and pain chased away all my thoughts.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth. It will subside.”

Bile in my throat, I prayed he was right.

“Another breath,” he quietly ordered.

I wanted to tell him to take a fucking breath but it hurt too much to talk. I tried another small intake of air.

“Another. We do not have much time.”

“What,” I panted, “
the fuck
is wrong with my back? Is there a bullet in there?” For some reason, that didn’t scare the ever-loving shit out of me. But it should. Being shot
should
scare the fuck out of me. What kind of fucked-up mess had my life become that I wasn’t afraid of a bullet being lodged in my flesh? The only answer I had was that there wasn’t blood gushing down my spine.

“No. You were grazed. Look at me, Ariella.”

Glancing up, I was about to tell him to stop saying my name like that when the words lodged in my throat. The skin under his right eye was split open and blood was dripping down his face. “
Shit
,” I whispered.

“I am fine.” His features darkened.

For the first time since waking up, I was seriously afraid of what he was capable of. “You’re bleeding.” But it didn’t make him look weak, it made him look angry and feral and about a thousand times more terrifying.

“The tape ripped when you struggled. Force your left leg free. We are out of time.”

His eyes narrowed, his breathing faster, make no mistake—Viking was pissed. Seriously pissed. I tested my leg. Pain shot up my back but he was right, it was looser, much looser.

“Kick your leg out,” he demanded.

Biting my lip so I didn’t scream, I leaned forward as much as I could and kicked out, fast and hard. Pain roared up my back but the sound of ripping duct tape filled me with hope. If I could get one leg free, then maybe the other, then my hands, somehow, some way, then I could get the rope off Viking’s neck.

I kicked out on the one leg again and the tape ripped another half inch. It wasn’t much but it was enough to spur me on. I started kicking in earnest. My back screaming, my chair scooting forward with my every effort, sweat dripping down my face, I kicked and kicked. The tape that’d been holding me from ankle to shin ripped up my leg until only a small stretch was left intact. I leaned forward to give one last good kick.

“
Stop
.”

My head jerked up and I gasped. Blood, sweat, and the spiciest kind of musk I never could’ve imagined filled my lungs with everything that was Viking. Directly in front of him, he smelled like anger and death and sin and I shuddered. My last kick would have sent the stool under the board holding the concrete blocks flying.

With the light shining down on him, he stared at me like he was my own personal savior. “Listen to my instructions carefully.”

Huge arms, hard abs, shoulders twice the width of me—he wasn’t just bigger up close, he was larger than life. Speechless, I nodded.

“Aim for the center of the stool. Kick hard. Use your heel. When the board drops, throw your shoulders left to tip your chair. You are going to fall then use your free leg to shove yourself five feet back. Questions?”

A drip of bright red blood rolled down his chiseled cheek and fell off of his square jaw. It hit the board with a soft splat and landed next to a bunch of other splats. My gaze traveled north over the black-and-blue landscape that used to be his ribs and for the first time, I focused on the shadow that diagonally stretched across his chest. I’d assumed it was the lighting but now that I was less than two feet in front of him, I saw it for what it was. A quarter-inch raised scar ran from his left shoulder diagonally across his chest all the way to his right hip.

“What’s the scar from?”

“A sharp object.”

I waited but he didn’t elaborate. “Who did that to you?”

He stared at me. “A female.”

I dared to ask. “Why?”

“She was angry.”

Another drip of blood oozed from his cheek. “Where you the one who made her angry?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to know more. “Why?”

His massive chest rose with an inhale. “Kick the stool.”

I needed to know what had happened to him. “Tell me why.” Maybe it would make me remember him.

“After.”

“What if there is no after?” What if we both died in this windowless warehouse and I never got to hear my son’s laugh or breathe fresh air again?

“There will be.”

A horrible thought occurred to me. “Did I do it?”

He shook his head and the rope cut more into his neck. “No.”

“Then tell me.”

He studied me like he was trying to decide how much information I could handle. “I restricted her,” he finally admitted.

I swallowed. “And she didn’t want that?”

“No.”

Oh God. Super kink. “But you did it anyway?”

“Yes.”

“Does that turn you on?” I should’ve asked what he did. I should’ve asked if he hurt her. I should’ve asked a million different questions, but I didn’t. Because deep down, my heart was crushing in on itself that this man liked something I’d never be able to give him.

His nostrils flared. “No.”

I didn’t trust him. “Then why tie her up?”

A steady breath made his chest rise then fall like he was trying for patience. “I did not tie her up. I restricted her.”

“Is that what you like?” I had to force the rest of the words out. “To restrain women?”

His stare, absolute and unwavering, focused on me like no man ever had. “I do not keep women.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “When my hands are free, I am going to touch you.”

I sucked in a sharp breath and felt a twinge in my back. “I don’t want you to touch me.” I didn’t think I would survive it.

“I know.”

I should have asked how he knew but I didn’t. “Have you touched me before?”

“Yes.”

Jesus. “Where?”

“In your bedroom.”

My mouth went dry. “I meant—”

“I undressed you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled a lungful of his scent. I wanted to remember so bad but a part of me was glad I didn’t because if he died… I shook my head. “Don’t tell me anymore.”

“Look at me, Ariella,” he softly coaxed.

“I don’t want to.”

“You need to.”

Reluctantly, I lifted my gaze. Gray-blue eyes took me in like they saw everything I didn’t want the world to see. “I do not like seeing you restrained.”

“Please,” I whispered, too afraid to speak any louder, too afraid to say what I was thinking. I was ashamed of the way I wanted to get lost in the way he focused all of his attention on me.

He lowered his voice. “I do not want to see you like this ever again.”

Tears welled. Not because I was tied up or separated from my son, but because I couldn’t remember this man and, God, I wanted to remember him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you are not afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid.” I was terrified. He was the strongest, most confident man I’d ever met and I feared if I did remember him, it wouldn’t be a happy ending.

“Kick the stool out.” Quiet but firm, his voice belied the fact that he was half-naked and beaten and hanging four feet off the ground by chains around his wrists.

I followed the rope around his neck all the way down to the ties around his legs. “But the zip ties.”

“I will break them when the board drops.”

Or they’d cut through his ankles worse. “You’ll die.”

“I am not going to die.”

“It’ll strangle you.” Then he’d die. And I’d never know what it was like for him to touch me.

“It will not strangle me. Do not forget to tip your chair and push yourself back.”

I was already shaking my head. “I’m not doing this. I don’t want to see you hanged. I
can’t
do this. Please,” I begged. “Don’t make me.”

“I have never lied to you.”

I didn’t know if that was true or not but it felt like it was. “You’re not invincible, Neil.” I used his name because everybody deserved to have their name spoken before they died but it felt foreign on my tongue.

“I know my limitations.”

“You’re chained to the rafters and bleeding.” How the hell did he think this was going to end if I kicked that stool?

His nostrils flared but his voice didn’t change. “The window is closing.”

“Someone’ll find us.” He must have people looking for him. “You just need to hang on until—”

“KICK THE STOOL.”