Page 11 of Sinner's Ransom: Taken
Montgomery sent him a wide-eyed stare. “You’re in the room.”
“And? I’m not letting you out of my sight, Monty, not when you tried to call the cops on us.” Stone crossed his arms over his massive chest. “So either piss or don’t. I couldn’t give a damn, but if you don’t piss now, you won’t get another chance until I decide to take you again.”
Montgomery straightened and turned his back on Stone, stepping closer to the toilet. It looked old, with a rusted pipe, but it was also clean on the seat and inside, so he didn’t have the urge to upchuck. Even though the bathroom felt antique, it was clean, like the toilet.
“I don’t have all day, Monty.”
“My name isMontgomery.” He threw a glare over his shoulder. “Why do you insist on calling me that horrible nickname?”
Stone grinned. “Because you’re so pretty when you get angry. Your cheeks flush this sexy red color, and your eyes darken. If you weren’t my captive, I’d bend you over and fuck you until you only knew how to say my name.”
A thrill shot through Montgomery, sharp and needy, and blood rushed south. Heat he’d quickly become familiar with settled in his stomach, and that only angered him more. Fuck if he’d let this lust continue. He closed his eyes and forced away the excitement. All he had to do was think about his dad and Abigail and it was gone, like it’d never been there in the first place.
He turned his attention back to the toilet and unzipped his trousers, pulling out his cock. Piss shot from his slit and into the bowl, filling the small bathroom with the sound of splashing. Relief washed through him as his bladder emptied, and when the last few drops left him, he shook it with his wrists still tied together and then tucked himself back in.
“You must have been holding that for a while.” Stone’s amused voice ruined his moment of tranquility.
“Fuck you.” Montgomery turned toward him, jaw tight.
“We really do need to teach you how to be nicer to people.”
“I’ll be nicer when you release my hands.” He made the point by raising his wrists toward Stone.
Stone merely opened the door to the bathroom, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “Not going to happen. Now get back downstairs.”
“You’re a dickhead,” Montgomery hissed as he shoved past him.
“I’m a lot of things apparently. Dickhead, asshole. Anything to add?”
Stone followed him down the stairs again and led him into a simply decorated kitchen. It wasn’t anything fancy, with a stove, a rusty fridge, a couple of counters, and a single sink with a white timber splashback. Against the wall sat a tiny table with three wooden chairs, one with a leg that had been broken off and taped back together. The paint on the walls was a sky blue, but it was peeling in certain areas, more notably in the corners, and the decoration was sparse, just one fake potted plant sitting on one of the counters and a magnet for a car dealership stuck to the fridge door. It didn’t look to be the kind of place someone like Stone lived in, so Montgomery suspected it might have been a house for these sorts of occasions—the criminal kind.
The old guy sat in one of the chairs at the table, a black laptop open in front of him. He tapped on the keys slowly, one key after another, in a way only a person who didn’t grow up with the technology could. It reminded Montgomery of his grandfather before he passed.
His grandfather had been the only person in his family who cared about him. On weekends, it wasn’t unusual for Richard to palm Montgomery off to his grandfather, citing that he needed to work. Montgomery hadn’t minded. His grandfather and he often played games, ranging from TAG to chess, and then there were the times when Montgomery sat down with him and taught him how to use a computer, mostly for banking purposes. They were some of the best moments in his childhood, until his grandfather passed when Montgomery was twelve.
Stone pushed him forward toward one of the seats that didn’t have a broken leg. He used his grip on Montgomery’s shoulder to shove him into it before rounding on the old man.
“How are we going?”
The old-timer pressed his lips into a thin line and frowned over his screen at Montgomery, as though everything was his fault. Maybe if they hadn’t kidnapped him, there wouldn’t be an issue. He kept his mouth shut.
“Nothing. Salvatore says Booker refuses to give us the money.”
Montgomery shouldn’t have been surprised because he knew his dad wouldn’t part with his cash for him, but it still hurt. He wanted to believe his dad was playing a bigger game, yet he couldn’t fool himself. Richard was probably glad he finally got rid of him.
“Does he have the money?”
“How much are you asking for?” Montgomery interrupted.
The old guy glared, but Stone blinked at him curiously. Montgomery couldn’t quite work the guy out. He was calm for someone who’d just kidnapped a rich man’s son, but even if he’d done it before, surely there would always be a sense of fear. Yet Stone’s coolness made Montgomery itchy, scared even. No one should be that calm.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked.
“Because I can tell you if he has it or not.”
“He has it. Booker is loaded, you heard Salvatore, Stone,” the old guy muttered, glaring at Montgomery. “The kid will just tell you he doesn’t so we let him go.”
“Why would we let him go, George? He knows who we are.” Stone raised his brows at him, smiling.
