His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(128)
Author: Shayla Black

He shut the door behind him with an eager smile. “Morning. I’ve been waiting for you.”

With another glance around, Bailey was afraid to ask what for.

She studied his face again, wondering why it looked familiar. Then it hit her. Joaquin had shown her a picture of this man. As a child, she’d watched him drag her father from their house for the last time. This was Joseph McKeevy.

Her body turned icy in terror.

“Where is Joaquin?” Her voice shook.

“If you mean the former federal scum you’ve been fucking, he got away. Don’t worry. I’ll track him down and cap his ass—as soon as I take care of you.”

Bailey didn’t want to know what that entailed. “Where am I?”

“Some place you’ll never escape,” he promised smugly. “Since you’re the one strapped to the table, I’m the one who asks the questions. So you better shut up unless I ask you to speak. Women are like kids, better seen and not heard.”

She wanted to tell him what a misogynist he was, but didn’t dare. Instead, she consoled herself with the notion that he wouldn’t understand her insult anyway.

After a long moment of silence, he smiled. “I’m glad you’re learning your place real quick. The ones who do feel a lot less pain. Do you need to pee?”

“Yes.” And any chance to be unstrapped from this table might be a chance—no matter how slim—to escape.

He released the Velcro on the straps around her wrists and ankles with a loud ripping noise, then he dragged her to her feet. Dizziness swamped her, and Bailey reached out to steady herself, but found only air. Then McKeevy pushed her toward a door standing slightly ajar on the far side of the room. When she fell and scraped her knees, he laughed.

“Some ballerina. You can’t even stand up straight, you stupid bitch. Go on.” He gestured to the door. “You got two minutes or I come in there and it gets ugly.”

She let herself into the tiny bathroom and flipped on the dingy light. The room didn’t have a window. The cabinets were empty. Everything looked old. It smelled that way, too, but she managed to do her business, then shimmy back into her jeans. After quickly washing her hands, she inched out of the room, to find McKeevy waiting.

“Hop on the table.” He patted the cold, metallic slab.

“Can I stand?”

“Nope.”

His answer sounded more like a growl, but she knew if she simply lay down, he would kill her. All the implements on the wall were beyond her reach. She couldn’t try to jump or rush him. She lacked the strength to overpower him, and the element of surprise wouldn’t be enough to counter that. So now what? Bailey hesitated, her thoughts whirling.

“The longer you stand there, the more you’re pissing me off. The more painful I can make your last hours.”

So her death wasn’t a matter of “if” but “when” in his head. Still, she didn’t want to just lie down and die like a good little girl.

“I’m so thirsty. Water?”

“What do you think this is, a hotel?”

“No, I’m just so dry. I’d hoped—”

“Jesus, you’re a pain in my ass.” He sighed and bent to a bar-size fridge under the wooden tool bench built along one wall. He never took his stare off her as he reached in and plucked out a bottle, then put it into her hand.

Slowly, Bailey unscrewed the cap, looking at any available option she might have to escape. He’d placed his big body between her and the main door. Everything else was walls. As she took a swig of water, she tried to tamp down her frustration. There had to be something she could do to save herself. She clung to the knowledge that if Joaquin was alive, he’d be looking for her. Until then? She took another sip, still thinking, but came up empty-handed.

Suddenly, McKeevy grabbed her wrist and seized the bottle from her hand, slamming it on the counter. “That’s enough.”

Before she could fight, he slung her back on the table and straddled her. She struggled and writhed, bucking to be free, but he slapped her hard. Bailey’s head reeled and her cheek throbbed with pain. Since he outweighed her, he easily pinned her to the cold table. In less than a minute, he had her immobilized again with the straps.

McKeevy laughed at her once more. “Stupid cunt. For that, I’ll make sure the end is a screaming terrible time for you.”

The chill that swept through Bailey’s blood wasn’t just the low ambient temperature in the room. His words filled her with savage terror. Joaquin had shown her pictures of the carnage he was capable of. Even now, he was probably thinking about all the possibilities and going out of his mind.