I winced at Jasmine's name. She had been the sweetest woman and a mother figure for me. She taught me how to talk to girls, how to be a gentleman, and how women should be treated.

  What would she say about you now?

  "Don't bring Jasmine into this. She would understand that I had to do what I had to do."

  "You would look that woman in the eye and lie to her and tell her you were saving that girl. And maybe that will be the outcome, but that's not what you are doing. You want to use her as bait, hold her here until Massimo comes looking. What you're doing is going to get her killed. I think we don't want any more blood on our hands, yeah?"

  "What the fuck do you know?"

  The whack that happened on the back side of my head was so sudden my face almost fell into my stew. "You used to hit harder than that,” I muttered in retaliation.

  "Boy, I will use the wooden spoon next time. Trust me, your face in the soup will be an improvement on your ugly mug."

  I smirked at that. He might not agree with me, but he also wouldn't let her go. Because while I wasn't noble, he was. He would keep her safe and protected here.

  And as for Daphne Winslow, she was just going to have to get used to the fact that until I was ready to let her go, she was my property.

  14

  Daphne

  There was a knock on my door. That's how I knew it wasn't Drake. He wouldn't have knocked.

  I quickly shoved all the bolts I'd managed to unscrew off the bed, looking for something useful to use as a weapon. I hadn't been able to get all the bolts out though, which made everything basically useless. "Come in."

  When the door opened, the same tall, elderly black man walked in. He had skin like burnt leather, but he looked young, like maybe late fifties or early sixties, and he had kind eyes. "Well, love, I know Drake is a bit of a wanker, but I wasn't going to let him just bring you a sandwich. I’ve got some oxtail stew here and a spoon. Sorry, he wouldn't let me give you a knife or fork, so you're going to have to use your fingers if you want to get at this bone."

  I gave him a sheepish smile when my stomach grumbled. "It smells good."

  "It is. I made it myself from my Jasmine's recipe. She was Jamaican. I did one of those DNA tests once. They said I was Tanzanian and South African."

  I smiled at him, trying to endear myself to him anyway I could. "I think with the tests now, you can even find some tribes. But we have to wait until they get even better. But God, if you’re European, you’ll get told down to the exact location."

  He chuckled at that. "Right? You’ll get to find out what neanderthal strain you came from."

  I laughed. "Yeah."

  He placed the tray on the table. "Now, that one downstairs, he might be a bit of a grump and act a bit stern, but he’s not going to hurt you."

  Somehow I didn’t quite believe that. So far he’d infiltrated my life, kissed me, tried to manipulate me, kidnapped me, and threatened me. It was safer to believe he would fucking hurt me. "Why do you work for him?"

  He grinned then, and a low chuckle emanated from his throat. "Work for him? As if he could afford me. I don't work for him. Never have, never will. He's a spoiled brat, that one."

  "Then why are you here? Is he holding you against your will too? Listen, if we work together, we can probably get out."

  He gave me a wry smile. "Sweetheart, I don't work for him, but he's not holding me against my will. I know that you're scared, but as long as I'm here, no one is going to hurt you in this house, okay? But you need to just stay here for the time being until he says you can go, okay?"

  "He's never letting me out of here. I know how this ends. I die. Or worse, much worse, I could get sold off to someone. I could—"

  He held up a hand. "Easy does it. Like I said, as long as I'm here, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Now, why don't you have a seat and eat your stew. I put some cornbread on the side there too."

  "Cornbread? Isn't that an American thing?"

  "Yeah, my Jasmine, she spent a lot of time in the States too. So we used to make a hodgepodge of food."

  "Where is she? Downstairs being held against her will?"

  His smile became sad, and he shook his head. "She died about six years ago."

  Fuck.

  I don't know why, but I felt a sudden wave of sadness for one of my apparent captors. "I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, me too. She would have been even more against what Drake is doing. And trust me, she would’ve given him hell."

  "But let me guess, she wouldn't let me go either?"

  "No, not when being here is probably the safest place you could be for the time being."

  I eyed the stew. "Is it drugged?"

  He sighed. "No, honey." But he nodded as if he understood and went over and took one of the spoons he had given me. "Here, see?" He took a bite and didn’t keel over so I tentatively picked up the spoon. "Good girl. Now, I want you to eat then try and get some rest."

  He eyed the bed, then his gaze met mine and he winked. "I don't know what you're up to, girl, but whatever it is, give him hell."

  I blinked wide-eyed at him. "What?"

  He shrugged. "I think he needs someone who isn't just going to do what he says."

  "But didn't you just tell me I have to stay here?"

  "Yes, you do.” He shrugged. “However, you don't have to be docile about it."

  "You're telling me I should try to piss him off?"

  He chuckled. "I'm saying it would be entertaining for me if you did. You would still be in this house, but it might get out some of those frustrations."

  “And if I escape?”

  He grinned at me. "That's the spirit. But you won’t. And like I said, no one's going to hurt you. If he tries, you tell me. You holler for all your worth, and I will come running with a gun."

  "Guns are illegal."

  He laughed. "You think I don't know that?"

  "Right. You know him, so obviously, you have a gun."

  "Honey, no one is going to shoot you either. Now eat. Don't make my hard work go to waste. It's not drugged, okay? Eat. Then I'll come back and take your tray."

  "Thanks," I mumbled. I was hungry, and I did need to keep up my strength. I hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch, thanks to Massimo.

  "You're welcome. And for what it's worth, I'm working on getting you out of here sooner. He will just take some time to convince." And then he was gone, leaving me with soup and a spoon. A spoon I might be able to use.

  To my horror though, I realized that the spoon he gave me only looked like silver, but it was plastic. Though the food smelled too good not to at least try.

  I took a tentative bite, and my stomach grumbled. The stew was hot and thick, filled with oxtail and vegetables, and goddamn it was so good.

  The cornbread was sweet on my tongue, and I groaned after taking a bite. The soup was just spicy enough that it made my nose run.

  Before I knew it, I’d drained half the bowl. I laid waste to the cornbread too but couldn’t finish it because my stomach was suddenly full. I slowed down and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my spoon.

  It was plastic, so it could be broken.

  I looked at one of the drawers and placed half the spoon inside the drawer, held on to the other half with my hand, and then slammed the drawer shut. The spoon finally snapped, giving me two sharp ends.

  Okay, at least I had a weapon.

  I tucked the straight handle in my sleeve and then used the other end to finish the soup. After I used the bathroom, I washed my hands and felt like a new person.

  I was going to have to do something with my hair at some point. My curls were out of control and in need of a serious conditioner. And I had no products here.

  Not that he would give me any. And of course, he’d kidnapped a black woman without thinking about giving her a satin pillowcase to sleep on. I must look crazy.

  I was checking out my hair in the mirror and caught a glance at the toilet paper roll. Now wait a damn minute. It occurred to me there might be a spring inside of it. Actual metal. Metal that I could straighten and make into a weapon. I ran over to it and placed the toilet paper roll on the back of the toilet and looked at the coil inside.

  "Bingo."

  Slowly I uncoiled it, twisting it into the kind of weapon that I could use to wrap around my knuckles and leave a pointy end that I could stab with.

  "This is perfect."

  I knew how to throw a punch at the very least. Maybe just enough to be dangerous, but with a weapon attached, this could be a gamechanger. I shoved my modified weapon under my other sleeve. He might be able to disarm me with one weapon, but not two.

  When the bedroom door opened again, I shouted from the bathroom, "Just a second, Reginald. I'm coming out."

  I made sure my clothes looked okay and he couldn't see the weapons I’d hid. When I stepped out into the bedroom, I frowned when I saw it was Drake. "Oh, it's you."

  "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart."

  "You should have sent Reginald back. I like him."

  "Yeah, everyone likes him."

  "I've been well-fed, so I'm appreciative of that. I wanted to say thank you to him."

  The corner of his lips quirked at that. "Let's get you changed for bed. There are some clothes in the bottom drawer if you want to change, and then I'll tie you to the bed."

  Fear sliced through me. "The fuck you will."

  He frowned. "I can already tell you're going to be trouble. You can change on your own, or I can do it for you. That’s certainly an entertaining prospect. I don't want to tie you to the bed, but I will if you don’t cooperate."

  He was considering changing me? Hell no. "You're not tying me to that bed. Over my dead fucking body."

  I squared up with him, and he held up his hands. "Why don't we have a conversation about it? You change your clothes in the loo. They're in the drawer. Come back out, and we'll talk."

  "No, not if talking means you tying me to the goddamn bed."

  "If I don't tie you to the bed, that means I'll be sleeping with you." He licked his bottom lip. “And judging from how much you liked me kissing you, I don’t think either of us will sleep.”

  My eyes bulged. "No."

  I went over to the drawer and found a few of the things I'd brought with me for the weekend, as well as other things that were in my fucking size. What the fuck?

  I grabbed a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, and as I did that, I dropped my weapons from my sleeves into my hands.

  Looking back on this moment, I could be proud of a couple of things. One, I surprised him. Two, I actually got a hit in on him. But what happened after, well, not my brightest moment.

  I threw the clothes at him and then immediately went for an attempted swipe across his neck. All I managed was to nick his chin a little, and then I hit him with my left hand, but I didn't fully rotate my hips. So all that did was puncture his thigh muscle. He bellowed and howled. Instead of hitting me back, he tucked his body and launched himself at my midriff, grabbing me. I tried to stab him again, but I'd already lost the weapon. He launched us both onto the bed, tucking my arms beneath me and using his whole body on top of mine to immobilize me.

  And then, thanks to my earlier efforts to dismantle the bed, the whole thing fucking collapsed.

  He cursed as I fell with him, the surprise of it catching him off guard. I quickly scrambled to my feet and ran for the door.

  I made it out, even though his fingers grazed my ankle. The moment I was out in the hall, I screamed, "Reginald! Reginald!"

  And the next thing I knew, a door down at the end of the hallway opened, and the old man stuck his head out. His eyes were wide in alarmed surprise, but I wasn’t focused on him. Instead, my gaze was on the staircase leading down.

  I was close. So close.

  Reginald came out and held his hands up. "Girl, are you all right?"

  But before I knew it, Drake had me. His thundering footsteps that I had expected to hear didn't happen. He was as silent as an assassin, which is what he likely was. He scooped me up from behind as I kicked and screamed and clawed. "Little minx took the nuts out of the goddamn bed. It made the whole thing collapse."

  And then Reginald did the most interesting thing. He grinned. "I told you so."

  "Aren’t you going to help me? You said you would help me," I screamed.

  "I said if he was trying to hurt you I would help. He's not trying to hurt you. Look at how he's holding you. He's trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

  Then I realized Drake wasn't hitting me, he wasn't slamming me into any walls, despite my wild attempts to kick and flay.

  Christ. It didn't stop me from fighting to get away though.

  I smashed my head back, catching him in the jaw again.

  "Fuck me."

  "Over my goddamn dead body. You into necrophilia, arsehole?"

  "What? Fuck. Stop fighting."

  And then he tossed me in the air just a little bit, bringing me back around, causing my legs to collapse from under me. We were on the ground, and he was on top, his full body weight on me, hands on my arms as he growled in my face. "You will hurt yourself if you keep doing this."

  I stopped struggling.

  "Good girl." his voice had gone husky and it sent a shiver of awareness through me.

  I could feel his erection pressing against my belly. Or maybe it was my imagination. Yeah, it was. I'm sure it was. Of course it was.

  The unwanted flood of heat to my core had me lifting my hips and testing what I knew to be true. And then he shifted, just a little, and inhaled sharply.

  A groan tore out from deep in his chest, and his face dipped closer to mine.

  With a strangled squeak, I whispered, "What are you doing?"

  His furious gaze snapped to my lips and I waited.

  And waited, my clit pulsing in time to my pulse.

  Excruciatingly long seconds, and I felt every heartbeat in my throat.

  And then he was gone.

  His entire weight lifted off me, as he dragged me back to standing. "Are we done?" His voice rough-hewn and raw.

  That unwanted pulsing between my thighs only intensified. "Yes."

  As he shoved me toward the bedroom, I was terrified, I'd just blown my one and only shot for escape.

  Drake

  Getting Daphne settled had taken longer than expected. The old man looked fucking smug when I finally came downstairs again. “Could you please not?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t say a bloody word.”

  Maybe he hadn’t said anything, but, his eyes had said so much. Everything about his body said I told you so.

  I glowered at him. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

  “Who me?”

  I shoved by him, heading for the kitchen. I'd been forced to put Daphne in another room for now. I’d already cleared out anything that could potentially be dangerous, including the toilet paper holder. And the bed was on a platform, one of the low ones with a very modern design. She’d already proven far too resourceful. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Can you keep her safe when I’m not here?” I asked.

  “Always. I don’t agree with you, but like I said, no one gets in. And for her own safety, for now, she does not get out.”

  I nodded at the old man. “Okay, I’m headed back to the city for a meeting in the morning.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Are you armed. Do you have fresh ammo? You can stock up before you go.” He pushed past me, heading for the shed in the back. It looked like a regular garden shed on the outside, but I knew well that it had a subterranean level that could double as a bomb shelter. And it was armed to the teeth.

  I followed him automatically, neither of us speaking until we were in the shed.

  “She hurt you?” Reginald asked.

  I glanced down at my leg and shrugged it off. “What’s the matter, old man? You worried about me?”

  He smirked. “You’re still just Drakie to me, boy. A pain in the arse but still lovable. The thing you’re doing with this girl, though. I worry.”

  I rubbed at the back of my neck where the tension had knotted. “I know. I’m still looking for the connection. I have full intentions of taking her back.”

  Liar.

  I couldn’t tell him that the more she fought me, the more I was inclined to keep her. The stronger she was, the more a little part of me admired her strength.

  “You had better. This thing you’re doing… You’re flirting with a line you can’t come back from once you cross it.”

  At this point, knowing she was upstairs in bed, there was a part of me that didn't want to come back from that edge.

  15

  Drake

  The dream always started the same way. With me at that iconic bench trying to warn Saffron Abbott. Trying to tell her without blowing my cover what was coming for her if her parents came to visit.

  For the Syndicate, for Massimo’s father, Antonio Igno, taking out the Abbotts was a coup. They were the heads of a secret group of spies that had been the bane of the Syndicate's existence for over a decade.

  I could almost feel the sunshine on my skin, feel the breeze. I could see the red in Saff's braid's picking up the sunlight.

  And then came the dread like instantaneous storm clouds.

  The stinging burn of the bomb blast at the airport.

  Don't interfere, Drake, my handler had said. Orders. And I, like a good soldier, followed them. Dutiful, disciplined, dumb. He swore to me they had been warned.