Page 18 of Kept

I can’t imagine she’d want to go out after dancing all night, but clearly she did. The casino isn’t anywhere near where the show was, though.

I dial up the head of security for the casino.

“Yes, sir?” he answers.

“Anthony, send me all the security footage from around the casino for the last six hours. Including the garage and the street.”

“On it.” He’s not the head of security because he’s social. He’s the head of security because he’s smart as hell and mean as a junkyard dog when he needs to be.

Opening another program, I connect to the cameras inside the spare room. I pretend it’s for security reasons. She’s wrapped up in the robe and holding the shirt I left sitting on her bed. She seems to mull over her choices a bit before she stands and the robe falls from her shoulders.

Fuck me.

She’s goddamned gorgeous. Soft, creamy skin, long, toned legs that lead up to her bare pussy. Her waist is trim, her breasts small handfuls with perky upturned nipples.

Jesus Christ. I adjust my remarkably hard cock. I’m going to have blue balls for the rest of my goddamned life.

I almost feel bad about watching her on camera, but then I remember she damn near saw me kill someone and God knows what her friend Robert saw. I know it’s more than she said, and I want to spank her ass until she confesses every sin and begs for forgiveness.

And then bury my cock inside every hole in her body.

I shake my head. Jesus, fuck, get it together, man.

It’s been too goddamned long since I’ve had a woman in my bed, or over my knee. Finding a woman for the night is easy, but having one in your life is significantly harder when you’re the head of the fucking mafia.

My email chimes. It’s Anthony with the security footage.

I skip to the feed of the alley and start watching in real time, starting with when Marco and I dragged that woman-beating-waste-of-fucking-air out there. We were in a camera blind spot. The rest of the alley was visible, clear as day.

I see a pair of figures approaching, one much taller than the other. They are side-by-side, without a care in the fucking world. They become identifiable.

Hello, Robert.

I see the moment they round the corner. His hand flies to his mouth like a silver screen starlet when the monster comes out.

Well, now we know who gasped.

What follows surprises the hell out of me, and I pride myself on not surprising easily. My little ballerina yanks him back and shoves him behind the dumpster.

Fuck. I never saw him.

Neither did Marco apparently, since he beelined for the girl, who was sprinting as fast as she could out of there.

Clever, kitten, very clever.

I fast-forward until I can see him pop out from the dumpster and run for his car, which happens to be parked directly under a camera. I send Marco the plate to confirm that the mystery man is indeed Robert.

What the hell was she thinking, cutting through a fucking alley on her way to the bar? Just a stupid and dangerous thing to do. For fuck’s sake, I installed lighted sidewalks to the club. Does she not know what happens in dark alleys? What kind of men she will find there? Bad men.

Men like me.

CHAPTER 11

Sarah

For the second time in as many days, I wake up staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. It takes a minute for my groggy brain to scroll through the assortment of jumbled memories from the last few hours of my life.

I’m in a mob boss’s… guestroom? In his Fort Knox status apartment, after having been kidnapped and thrown into the truck of a car.

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