Page 58 of Guarding The Phoenix: Vol. 2

“I might know a guy.” Chase nodded thoughtfully.

“Do you trust him?”

“Yep. We’ve known each other since high school. And he owes me one.”

“Then let’s get ahold of him. We need to vacate the area first though.” I jerked my head toward the sirens approaching in the distance.

We took off at a jog away from the sirens. The plan swimming in my head would only work if it was believed we were dead until the appropriate time.

We ran into the darkness. And the old adage, “it’s always darkest right before the dawn,” dodged our footsteps.

Chapter twenty

Hell

Kylie

Ishowered.Mainlytogive myself time to think and wash the stench of vomit off me. I didn’t know if my guys survived. But I wasn’t ready to give up easily.

And I didn’t want to bait the monster. My marriage taught me that sometimes acting like I was whipped was an easier path. Not that I wouldn’t fight like hell when the time came, but I had to be smarter than my captor.

I couldn’t do that if I bucked his orders initially. And I didn’t know him well enough to guesstimate his reactions. Other than being a total psychopath, he was an unknown quotient. Until I understood the lay of the land, how he operated, whether his hired help would be easy to sway or if they were loyal to their core, I couldn’t make a move.

When I stepped out of the bathroom still in a towel, I blanched. On the bed was a little black dress and a pair of strappy black heels. On top was a bra and panty set in sheer mesh black.

If there was anything left in my stomach, I would be back in the bathroom spilling my guts. As it was, I gritted my teeth and padded over to the bed. That’s when it dawned on me—the sadistic fuck had cameras in the room. Maybe even had a few in the bathroom.

That’s why he knew to send someone in to lay the clothing on the bed.

I dropped the towel. No point in modesty when he’d likely already seen the goods. It burned my butt that I had to act like the good little stooge.

The bra and panties fit like they were meant for me. How did the fucker have my damn sizes? Had he really been watching me that long? Out of all the things my dead husband had done, the fact that he’d told Luka no when he expressed interest in me, was something I would forever be grateful for. Knowing my husband it had simply been because he considered me his property and didn’t like to share.

But it also left me wondering if Luka’s obsession with me arose out of his defiance. Had my husband created more of a problem for me with his refusal to share me?

It’s something I would never know.

The black sleeveless bodycon dress was skintight and felt like silk. It molded itself to my body like a second skin. If anyone else had given it to me, I would have loved the sexy dress. But because it was from Luka, I wanted to burn it.

At the thought of flames, I sat on the side of the bed and pressed a hand over my heart. I missed them. Axel, Gideon, Mateo, and Chase, the men I loved. The men I didn’t know how I would live without or carry on.

It might be a moot point anyhow. Even though Luka desired me, I doubted he meant to keep me.

From what I knew about him, he didn’t leave women alive when he discarded them. They tended to have a short lifespan. It was up to me to discover how long he intended to keep me.

The door opened. I jolted and rose into a defensive stance. A man I didn’t know, with short, dark clipped hair and a face resembling a hound dog entered with his arms loaded. His beady black eyes assessed me as inconsequential. He laid the items on the bed.

“Senor Santos requests you are dressed and ready for dinner. He will be with you shortly.” He nodded and backed out of the room.

I studied the items he lay on the bed like they were venomous snakes. But really, once I moved past my revulsion for anything coming from that man, I began recognizing what they were: a hair dryer, brush, makeup, perfume, and even jewelry.

I wanted to defy the edict. I wanted to give him the finger. I wanted to crawl beneath the bedcovers and sob.

I did none of those things. I soldiered on. I carried the stuff into the bathroom and did as he bid. There wasn’t anything to style my hair with other than the dryer and brush. But then, a curling iron could be used as a weapon.

When I was done, I stared at my reflection. I looked the part of a kept woman. It was a look I knew well after my husband. On the outside, I looked like a sexy woman, expertly styled. My long dark hair fell in a straight sheet over my shoulders and back. Everything about me looked the part until I met my eyes in the mirror.

They were hollow, stark, and ancient.

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