Page 70 of Boneyard HEA

The opposite. “Ummm.” My heart bounces into a thud-thuddity-thud.

He’s stilled and is looking more serious than I’ve ever seen him, even more than when he was doing mean things to my ass. This room is as quiet as a dead church mouse.

“Well…” What do I say to that? I hiccup and find I’m having to sniff back tears. I don’t think I know how to feel love, when I’m trapped here, waiting for the villains to come get us and maybe do what they did to Riley. No matter how brave I make myself be, the fear comes sneaking back.

“Don’t”—he waves his hands before him as if to create a barrier or deny what he said—“you don’t have to say it too.”

“Dayum, Mr. Loxland. Even close to and maybe? That’s something, considering where we are.” I heave in a breath and stare at the steel cuff on my wrist, at how he’s also chained to the wall. This sucks that I cannot decide if I am in love. “Give me some time. I have some killing to do first. I can say I’m in lust?” I glance up, hopefully. I did wonder this before, felt something happening, a bond with both men. Only one man is missing, never to return. “Right here, right now, it’s too much to think about.”

“I’m okay with that half-assed answer. I’ll just spank it out of you when we get free.”

Funny how that’s lifted my mood.

We exchange weak smiles for a while, until the room, and the whole kidnapping thing, starts to crowd in again. “Thank you. That’s a good answer. So. Can I call you Aaron now?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Noted.” I grin.

I lift my cuffed hand and pull the blanket over my mostly naked body. They’ve left my bikini on, and I suddenly have a thought. Do I feel anything odd below? Any hurts or intimate aches? No. They haven’t raped me while I was asleep.

I’m not sure if that’s good or bad as I’m sure they intend to, and I’m sure they mean to make it hurt.

How do we get out of here?

As if summoned, the door begins to open and those two men step in, first is Zasha holding a pistol, a Glock, I think. He’s the toadlike man with the hairy muscular body, wearing tracksuit pants and T-shirt. Next is Shawn the dickhead guard with the Irish fake niceness, in shorts, shirt, and bare feet.

“How are you both? Good? Our luxury hotel room is good?” Zasha gestures broadly with his free hand. “Now this is when we show you what will happen over the next week. We get to fuck with your girl, Mister Aaron, but…so do you! Ha!”

Shawn makes a finger gun and aims at Mr. Loxland. “You’re a lucky boy. Do this properly, and we let you go, unharmed, but filmed, so we have a way to keep you in line in future. Understand?”

Mr. Loxland grunts, glowers at them both. “Why are you bothering us?”

“Bothering? Haha! He is comedian.” Zasha laughs. “You forget what you did? We bugged your room while you go to swimming pool. Shawn runs back, bursts in, pretends he stops me hurting little Miss Juniper. So, we know what you know.”

Shawn pretends to count on his fingers. “The murdering of Nathan with a shovel? A fookin’ shovel? Your sneaky hacking for travel information? And there’s the scarred cock and the final pièce de résistanc-y is you got that name Fionn, from your sexy dead friend.” He nods at me, approaches, and puts his foot on my thigh then walks his toes up to rest between my legs.

Slowly, I shake my head and pretend to ignore what his toes are doing. “So what? If you let us go, what do we have against you? Nothing. You can report me to the cops for murder. Mr. Loxland did nothing to you. You should release him.”

They both laugh at that, and I’ve apparently attracted too much attention, because Zasha comes closer.

“She doesn’t know who you are, Shawn. After all their investigating the name means nothing to her.”

The two of them look down on me, and I slide along the wall, with my back creeping sideways as far as I can go. “Tell me whatever the fuck you mean then.”

Maybe I should be being timid, to protect myself from retaliation, but I doubt they care.

Shawn squats in front of me, leers, pats my head. “My name, smartass, is Fionn Shaughnessy, but everyone likes to call me Shawn. And this…” He unzips his fly, rummages, and pulls out his semi-hard cock. “See.”

Crap. I already know what he means, what I will see. A scar disfigures his cock just like in the video. He’s not a fraternity member, so that would be why he never showed up in searches.

“You would’ve figured it out eventually. We decided to grab you and have some fun with you, before we leave the country. The question is, will you be coming with us, girl? Or will you be six feet under?”

Zasha chuckles. “That depends on you, Mr. Loxland. Da? Behave, and we will take her out of here alive. You like her?”

Mr. Loxland gives away nothing, just sits there breathing through his teeth, and I’m gritting mine at the unwelcome caresses I’m being subjected to.

“I think you do like her.” Zasha leaves me to go closer to Loxland, while Shawn keeps fondling me. My face. My breasts. He drifts his hand downward while he smirks and studies how I flinch at his touch.