Page 9 of Bloody Kingdom

She sits up straighter on the bed and eyes me warily. “I’msoconfused.”

Sighing, I place my hands behind me and take in the disheveled girl in front of me. She’s been in my home for less than two hours, for the majority of that time, she’s been drugged and unconscious but I’m already tired of having her here.

The reason that she’s here flashes through my mind and I resign myself for what’s to come. “You were a nurse back in Boston,” I start. “I’m in need of the skills you possess.”

Quincey frowns, eyes flicking over my frame. “Well, buddy, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m retired. I hung up the stethoscope and scrubs a few months back. Besides, you seem more than healthy to me.”

“You wouldn’t be working on me, Miss Page.” No, I have no personal use for a nurse. “There is someone else that requires your assistance.”

Quincey pushes off the bed, standing to her full—short—height. “Well, that’s a shame, there goes my plan to stab you with a scalpel.” She mockingly pouts her bottom lip before returning to scowling at me. “I’m no longer working with patients, I’m sorry—no wait, you know what? I’m really not.” She crosses her arms tightly against her chest. “Now that this is settled, let me go home.”

“Miss Page, there seems to be a misunderstanding here.”

“No shit.”

“You seem to believe I’m giving you the option to work for me.” I shift to stand in front of her, just in case she gets any ideas of running from me again. “You either work for me as a nurse, or I will send you back to Gallo to be used as nothing but a warm cunt for them to abuse.” My hand clasps her chin, my finger lying over the bruises already there. “Do I make myself clear?”

The brave face she’s been wearing starts to slip. She’s breaking in front of me, the defiance in her eyes is melting away and her jaw wobbles under my touch as she fights back tears.Good. She’ll be so much easier to deal with if she realizes she’s lost this battle.

“I can’t,” she whispers.

“You can,” I snap. “And you will.” My hand yanks roughly away from her face, making her head jerk. “Follow me to meet your new patient.”

I’m fucked.

Royally and completely fucked.

Not in the good way that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. I’m fucked like a pig is at a slaughterhouse. No way out and my fate inevitable. At least for poor Wilbur, it’s relatively quick. I, however, feel like I’m on the slow march to death as I follow behind my mysterious captor.

I know he was there tonight. I recognize his voice from the alley. While it’s as smooth as it was when it came from the shadows, now that I know who it belongs to, it’s less appealing.

This man isscary.

He’s not scary in the way he looks, no, the man looks like he walked off a runway in Milan. His dark, haunting features would capture the attention of anyone. The scary part of him is the intimidating energy coming off of him. It wraps around you until you feel like you’re asphyxiating on it. For Christ’s sake, in one night he’s killedandkidnapped someone.

This man fears no one. No, he’s the one people fear.

My mind wanders back to the look of horror on Gallo’s man’s face as he bled out from the ghastly chest wound. I still have no clue how such a wound was created. Racking my mind, I try to recall the sound of a gunshot or the glint of metal from a knife, but I come up blank. One second he was standing before me unharmed, and in a flash, his chest is pouring blood.

I’ve tried to fake a brave face in front of my captor, was doing okay at it too until he told me how I’d be repaying him, and I didn’t have a choice in the matter.

He stalks in front of me, not once does he look behind him to make sure I’m still with him. Somehow, he just trusts I won’t wander off. It’s probably due to the fact he proved earlier he’s stronger and faster than me. He lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

I fist the T-shirt I wear tighter to my thigh, feeling exposed and underdressed. “Can I have a pair of pants?”Underwear at the very least. Wait… where is my underwear?Nope. I don’t want to know the answer. I probably won’t like it anyway.

“Yes,” he answers gruffly. “Later.”

“Great. I’m going to be meeting this patient likeWinnie-the-Poohwith my ass hanging out in the breeze,” I mumble to myself under my breath, but when my captor’s head turns slightly in my direction, I deduct it wasn’t as quiet as I thought it was.Oops.

“I don’t believe Ira will mind.”

“Oh, I’msorelieved to hear that,” I dryly say as I scan the dark hallways. The house—no mansion—I’ve found myself in is old. That much is clear from the original features of the home, but it’s also obvious a lot of money has gone into updating and modernizing it.My kidnapper is a psychopath with an eye for interior design. The dimly lit lights cast shadows over the pristine décor. “It was going to keep me up at night, worried I made my kidnapper’s buddy uncomfortable.” I’m scared of him, I’ll admit it, but I’m alsopissedat him. I couldn’t stop the sarcastic comments even if I wanted to. They’re my only defense right now.

I’m so fixated on the features of the vast—beautiful—home, that I’m not paying attention to him walking in front of me. So, when I run into his back, I’m embarrassed of the girlish yelp that escapes me. I reach out for his arm to steady myself as I bounce off his hard as stone body, but before my hand can touch him, I recoil from him like he burned me.

His eyes narrow and his pale lips pull back in a sneer, the tips of his straight white teeth reflecting the low light. “Let’s keep the chatter to a minimum when we enter Ira’s room. He doesn’t feel well, and your irritating commentary will not help the situation.”

Once again, his features are hidden by the faint light. Seems no one in this house requires proper light to see where the hell they’re going. As he blatantly glowers at me, I find myself wondering what color his eyes actually are. They’re so dark in this lighting, they could be black or brown—hell, dark blue maybe? My money is on black. Black like his fucking soul.

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