Page 11 of Pirate's Plunder

“Step on it. She’s already waking up. Raf, we ain’t done. Not even close.” He curses and takes off the Yankee hat he always wears.

“We’re fucking idiots,” Knight says as my younger brother tears at his hair just like I do.

Just like our father did.

The only difference between us is twelve years, and he’s got both eyes. Our mother’s clear blue ones that he’s been hiding really well with shit brown contacts.

“What gave me away?” He looks back at me now and I want to hug him more than punch him.

“The dog bite scar and Abuela’s fucking afghan that smells like our broken ass childhood.” He grins at me.

“I missed you.” I sigh ‘cause fucking same kid.

“I kept you away for a reason. You were supposed to be the best of us. I paid all that money for you to go to medical school. You’re going to be a doctor, not a killer. Dammit!” I kick the van door as Knight pulls up to the clubhouse.

“I am a doctor. Graduated early. Surprise?” I shake my head at him.

“I’m going to kick your ass. Take those fucking contacts out.” I move to my knees with Genesis starting to wake up.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” I call out and wrap my arms around the struggling woman.

She’s moaning and fighting like she’s having a nightmare. Knight pulls the van door open, and I rush out and into the open front door. I take the steps two at a time to my room and get her into my bed without too much fuss.

I turn back to close my door and find half my guys watching us.

“We aren’t a circus act. Fucking get lost.” I slam the door and lock it, tucking the key, which I keep on a chain around my neck, back into my shirt.

“Ugh.” I hear movement behind me.

“Where am I?” Genesis’s voice still sounds groggy and confused.

“Home, Preciosa.”

Chapter Six

Genesis

That voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place where I heard it before. Am I back at Alfie’s house? Is it one of his men? I try to sit up, but my head spins. I grab my temples, trying to stop my brain from leaking out of my skull.

What the fuck did I drink?

I try to blink my eyes open, but they feel like sandpaper. Gritty, dry, and itchy as hell. I swallow hard, finding my throat isn’t in any better condition.

“Water?” I ask the room, hoping someone who answered me before was still here, wherever they were.

“I ain’t your maid. Bathroom’s through there.” Wait.

None of my father’s men would ever dare speak to me like that. I force my eyes to lift and look around. I don’t know where the fuck I am but it’s not anywhere I would ever call home.

The room is dark, masculine and smells like leather, oil and patchouli. The bed I’m on is firm, covered in black satin sheets of high quality. The frame is metal, and I yelp when I see a pair of handcuffs hanging from one of the bars.

“Not into being tied down? You seemed to like the spanking idea earlier.” That comment sparks a memory.

The Halloween party!

“Zek?” I still sound just as confused as I am.

“Pirate,” he corrects me, but I shake my head.

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