Freed (Bad Boy Hitman Romance) (38 page)

I smirked. “Yes, and once I sell Victoria, perhaps your sister can take her place.” The sentence had barely left my lips when she released this ungodly screech and lunged at me, knife swinging. Either I’d overestimated how quickly I could move or underestimated how quick she could be, because pain shot up my arm as the cleaver sliced a deep, three-inch gash in my arm. It then grazed my chest, making another couple-inch cut before I managed to pry the cleaver from her hands and toss the bloody knife into the sink beside me.

Grabbing her, I pulled her into my arms, attempting to ignore the pain shooting up my arm and the blood that was running down my arm and beginning to cover her. “I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll kill you if you touch her!” She began beating at my chest, attempting to squirm free, putting every bit of power she had in her into her swings at me.

“I’m not going to touch her, Emily. Calm down!”

She looked up into my eyes, her chest heaving as she attempted to gain her breath. “You’re a monster! I hate you!”

My jaw clenched as I attempted to rein in my anger. “Calm down. I’m not going to tell you again. It’s over.”

“Say you won’t hurt her. Promise.”

“I won’t hurt her, Emily. You have my word.” Her breathing slowed and the tension in her body began to drain. “I hate you,” she moaned, allowing me to pull her tight to me.

“As long as you stay and do as you’re told, your family is safe. I told you I wouldn’t lie to you and I’ll keep that promise.” For once in my life, I meant it. I’d spent my entire life weaving lies and didn’t have a single remorseful thought for those I’d deceived. Fuck, I was such a good liar, I almost believed myself sometimes. I suppose that was what made me so good at what I did – it’s easy when you don’t have a pesky conscience getting in the way.

Chapter 10

Emily

“I don’t know how to do this, Master,” I said as I accepted the sanitized needle and thread from Tanner. I was so nervous my trembling hands were going to have a bugger of a time trying to thread the needle.

“That’s why I’m going to instruct you.” He gave me a reassuring smile.

“I can’t even thread the needle, Sir. I’m going to hurt you.” I showed him my hand, which was holding the needle and shaking.

“I’d do it myself, but it’s a little difficult with one hand. Besides, you are the one who did this to me. And I assure you, I’ve been hurt a lot worse than what you can do with that needle.”

“Is that where the scars came from, Master?”

“Excuse me?” He lifted his gaze from the wound and caught my scared gaze.

“You’ve been hurt worse… Do you mean those scars?” I motioned to the long gash on his side.

He gave his head a shake and looked back down at his arm. “It’s not something I want to talk about right now.”

I finally got the needle threaded and let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s going to be fine.”

I must really be fucked up. Have to be. I should be running, I should be happy to have hurt him, but I’m not.
“Can I ask you something, Sir, in exchange for stitching you up?”

When he didn’t answer, I looked up from his arm to stare at him. To hell with it, I’d just ask the question I’d previously been told not to ask. What could he do to me anyhow? Lots, I supposed, but I didn’t think he would. He surprised me from time to time, but I was beginning to learn my boundaries and the consequences. “What’s going on with my parents? And my sister? I mean…I don’t want to call them, just curious how they are.”

“This isn’t a topic we’re supposed to be discussing. It’s one of the rules.”

“I know, but in exchange for sewing you up, Sir.”

He laughed. “All right. Fine. If you really want to know. Your picture has been all over the news. Your father, mother, sister have been on the news asking for your kidnapper to return you. I’m not really sure what to tell you, Emily. Basic missing-persons stuff. If it makes you feel better, there seem to be lot of people upset and looking for you.”

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” I wanted to jab him with the needle right in the heart, but I suspected he didn’t have one. Of course,
literally
he had one, but…

“Then why did you ask?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Sir.”

“Let them go, Emily. Let them go and move on.”

I stabbed him with the needle, but instead of offering an “ouch,” he just laughed. “What was that for?”

“For being you.”

“That’s hurtful.” I looked up at him and saw the playful twinkle in his dark eyes that I’d seen that night at the club. “Have I been that bad? You stabbed me and I didn’t do a thing about it. I would think most men would be rather upset with being stabbed.” He motioned to his forearm and then to his chest. “Twice, in fact. And if you don’t get to stitching, I’m going to bleed out on the kitchen floor.”

I looked down at the floor, at the front of his shirt covering me and then at his bare chest. Blood. Blood everywhere. “If you hadn’t said what you did about my sister I wouldn’t have stabbed you, Master.”

“Fair enough. Can we please get this over with? I’m fucking tired, sweetie.”

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Call me sweetie, and darling and love and all those endearments when you don’t really mean them. Those terms are meant for people you care for. Do you do that with all the others?”

“No.”

“Then why me?”

“’Cause you’re mine. I’m keeping you, Emily. And I’m going to redden your ass if I have to remind you how to address me one more time.”

Our stares locked and I could see in his eyes that he expected me to be exuberant over his declaration. I wasn’t sure what to think. Did he expect me to just stand around and watch as he brought in new women, broke and sold them? I didn’t think I could handle that. I’d go crazy – crazier than this situation had already made me.

“If you’re keeping me, then I don’t want you taking any more women, Master. Whatever it is that you need, get from me. You don’t need any others. I’ll do whatever you want, anything. Please, Sir, let Victoria go.”

“No. Victoria is going to be sold in a few days. That isn’t up for negotiation, love. But I am willing to make Victoria the last as long as you’re here.”

“I need to start this, Master.” His arm looked like something out of a horror show, a thin layer of blood covering his forearm. Putting the needle down, I grabbed a cloth and wiped his arm and disinfected the wound. “What do I need to do?”

“Start at the top, and make the stitches a quarter of an inch from each other and away from the edge of the skin.” Grabbing the bottle of whiskey he’d brought out for this particular occasion, he opened the top and took a long drink. “Let’s get this over with.”

I cringed as I poked his skin with the needle. His body tensed but he didn’t make a sound. The stitches became easier to make as I continued my way down the wound. I could feel his eyes burning into the top of my head as I worked, but refused to look up. Ten minutes later I was done and knotting it up.

Surveying my handiwork, I had to admit I was rather proud of myself. “Not bad, Master, right?” When I looked up into his smiling face I returned the smile. “Right?”

“It’s good.” He leaned back in the kitchen chair. “Now my chest and you’re done.”

I let out a ragged breath. His chest wound wasn’t nearly as deep or long; at least it would go quickly. And it did. A little over five minutes later I was done, but there was still the issue of the blood. I looked down at my stolen shirt, coated in his blood; it was nice to be wearing clothes for a change, but I’d have to get rid of it.

“I’ll give you another shirt.”

I don’t think I’ve smiled so wide in my life – over a shirt, no less. “You will?”

“Yeah. On one condition.”

I nodded. “Anything, Master, anything.”

“Get this kitchen cleaned up – there’s blood everywhere. I’m going to go check on Victoria one last time before bed.” He got up and the fact that he wobbled on his legs when he got up wasn’t lost on me. He made his way to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of orange juice and drank down the contents. Tossing the container into the garbage, he rummaged in a drawer by the fridge and grabbed a set of handcuffs; these ones had a long chain between them. “Give me your arm.”

I obliged, offering up my wrist. He placed the cuff on and cuffed the other end to a pipe under the sink. “I’ll be back. The cleaning supplies are in the closet over there.” He nodded his head toward the closet a few feet to my left.

Tanner

I’d lost a fucking lot of blood. I was lucky Emily hadn’t sliced an artery or I’d already be dead. If she attempted escape right now, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stop her – but I’d never let her know that. All I could do was bank on the fact that she was willing to martyr herself for her family and any potential women I might choose from in the future.

One thing was certain. I needed Victoria gone ASAP. Victoria was becoming a liability as far as Emily was concerned. I could control her with threats to her family and future women, but Emily wanted Victoria freed. She might get the idea in her head that it was worth the risk to her and her family to save Victoria’s life. Little did she know, Victoria was already lost. It would take years of therapy to get Victoria even halfway “normal” again. And there was a good chance she’d never be “normal,” that she’d spend the rest of her life in an asylum somewhere.
 

Making my way down the stairs to the basement, I took care not to go too fast, otherwise I’d be tumbling down the stairs and breaking my fucking neck. We wouldn’t want that. I should just put a fucking bullet in the bitch’s head and get it over with, but the auction was in a few days and people were flying in from all over to view her and Emily. Not that I had any intention of selling Emily. She was mine. Period. But it wouldn’t be professional to let them down, nor would it be smart to give up on the money Victoria would bring in.

Victoria was simply an inconvenience for a few more days – that was all.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I made my way to Victoria’s room and unlocked it. As expected she was already asleep, curled into a little ball on the mattress. I hadn’t told this to Emily, but Victoria was having it better with me than she had before I picked her up. Yes, she’d endured a lot at my hands during her training, but she’d been a hooker and addict on the streets before I came along.

The fact that the blood tests had come up clean of STDs and other diseases and that she was not dead already had been a miracle, considering she’d been a heroin addict when I picked her up. Normally I shied away from women like her, for obvious reasons, but I could see her beauty beneath the surface. Now that the track marks on her arms had faded and she was clean, her beauty was once more shining through. Her detox had been a bitch on her, worse than anything I could have done to her. Most people would argue that point with me, but it was my feeling I’d done her a favour.

Satisfied she was fine, I exited the room and locked the door behind me. At the foot of the stairs that took me to the main floor of the house, I groaned. There were twenty stairs, but it looked like it was a couple hundred. With a sigh, I began my climb. At the top of the stairs I took a moment to catch my breath; the room was spinning slightly. I couldn’t let Emily see the weakness in me,
 
– she could never see there was a weakness.

Once I had gathered myself, I made my way into the kitchen. Emily was finished and standing by the sink waiting for me. “I’m done, Master.”

“I see that,” I replied, surveying her handiwork. The kitchen – or at least the parts she could reach while being cuffed – was spotless. “Good job.” Walking over to her, I uncuffed her and tossed the cuffs back into the drawer they’d come from. “Let’s go to bed.”

I extended my hand to her and she paused, looking at my outstretched hand as if it were some foreign entity.

“Well, come on.”

Taking my hand, she exited the kitchen behind me. Once we reached the staircase she stopped. When I gave her hand a tug she got such a peculiar look on her face that it made me laugh. “Where are you taking me, Master?”

A grin remained on my face. “To bed.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut, following me into my room. “I’m staying with you, in here?” Her eyes scanned the bedroom. “But Sir, isn’t this your room?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you scared I’ll run?”