Page 63 of Break You

“What do you want?” I tried to control the tremors in my voice.

“Come here. Now.”

“Here? Where?”

“Your brother’s ‘office’.”

“Umm… okay. It’ll take me at least a half-hour to get there. Maybe forty minutes.”

“Well hurry up, little girl, the clock’s ticking. Oh, and no funny business. No police, or any other authorities. Talk to no one about this. Without exception. If you do, make no mistake; I will know about it, and I won’t be able to guarantee your brother’s safety, or that you’ll ever see him again, alive or dead. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.”

The screen went black, and I had to steady myself with a few deep gulps of air, to prevent myself from vomiting or passing out—there was no time for theatrics.

When I’d collected myself, I called an Uber.

* * *

The car hadn’t come to a complete stop before I was out of it, and sprinting toward the door of the warehouse in a disused business park my brother operated his business from. I’d tried to call him several times from the car, and each time the call had failed to connect, so I was even more terrified of what I would find than I had been when I’d hung up the phone.

I placed my finger on the electronic fingerprint recognition pad, then screamed in terror when I was jumped from behind—a hand clamped over my mouth, another grabbed my arm, and a familiar voice whispered in my ear.

“I’m not going to hurt you, just play it cool, it’s him I’m after, not you.”

As the words registered in my mind, I instinctively drew back my free arm, and slammed my elbow into the person behind me, realizing who it was after the blow had connected.

Xavier?

Xavier

Motherfucker! Emotionally she was as tough as any dude I knew, and now giving me all her might physically, just as she had that night at the Swan Club. There would be a major bruise there for sure, if not a hairline fracture, and I knew from previous experience that rib injuries hurt like a bastard, and took forever to heal.

“Christ! I said, I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, I’m not here to hurt anyone, but I do want to settle the score with your brother, once and for all.”

Of course, being Rocky, this didn’t reassure her at all. She squirmed and flailed against me even more, kicking at my shins, stomping on my toes, and biting down on the heel of my hand as I pulled it tighter across her mouth in an attempt to silence her.

I brought my lips closer to her ear and whispered again.

“I get that you’re trying to defend yourself, but you know that when you struggle and fight like that it’s an instant turn on, right? I’m sporting the boner from hell right now, Angry Girl.”

It was true. It was partially an adrenaline thing, and partially the fact that we were one step away from the rough sex we did so well, and I wanted her so badly it was stupid.

I thrust my hips toward her a couple of times, and just as I knew she would, she stilled completely. My angry girl was nothing if not predictably contrary.

“Okay, that’s it, nice and easy. You’re just going to walk, and I’m going to walk right behind you. We all just need to keep calm, okay?” She nodded and stopped biting my palm. I was torn between relief and disappointment, though I was happy I wouldn’t need a skin graft, after all. “Good. So, walk.”

She did as she was told, taking a few halting steps into the gloomy warehouse. The telltale clicks of guns cocking told me we weren’t alone—not that we had been from the start, as Drew was with us—but I also knew Pixie would have had the place fitted with every kind of surveillance device known to man, and that he and his “assistants” were armed to the teeth at all times.

The space was suddenly flooded with light, and the three of us blinked myopically as our eyes adjusted to the change.

“Take another step, and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

“Oh, I’m sure your sister would thank you for spattering her with her unarmed boyfriend’s brains.” I raised my hands in surrender. Drew did the same. “We’re not carrying, so be my guest.”

More guns cocking. Pixie’s henchmen were all looking to him for guidance. It was a matter of a raised eyebrow from him, and Rocky truly would be wearing my cerebral matter like face paint. He kept his eyes trained on his sister, and I kept my cranium intact. For now.

“Stop!” Her voice rang out like the church bell at my former boarding school, ricocheting deafeningly from the bare walls and high roof as she charged toward her brother. “What the fuck is going on? First of all, Pete, I thought you were hurt, or worse. They sent me…”

She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. He hugged her back—he was a bear of a man, and she seemed to disappear in his embrace—keeping his eyes on me the entire time.

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