Held Page 6

  “Glad you lived up to your word. Where are we going?”

  He reached up, pushed her door open wider, and stepped in front of her.

  “I always live up to my word.”

  He slowly reached out his hand and hooked his index finger under her chin. She was surprised at the smoothness of his skin. Nothing like Nick’s slightly rough, manly skin. He tilted her chin up to look at him. The surprising predatory look in his eyes sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

  “You would do well to remember that.” He dropped her chin as he fell back into his carefree posture and flashed his smile at her before offering her his arm. “Sweetheart.”

  What the hell was that about? Okay. Just . . .be polite and normal. It’s fine. She cleared her throat and smiled as she hesitantly took his arm.

  “Shall we? We’re on a schedule, and it's critically important to be on time. Wouldn't you agree?”

  Part of her was certain that was a jab at her almost perpetual tardiness, but he did nothing but smile as they walked. Psychotic punctuality was probably part of how he rose so high in the ranks. That and his slick, manipulating persona.

  “By the way, you look wonderful.”

  She glanced up to say an emotionless 'thank you,' but the words caught in her throat. Blue eyes were drinking her in. He stopped walking and stepped in front of her. Scarlet’s arm was still trapped under his, and she frowned. That lazy, drunken smile spread across his face yet again, and he spoke slowly like he was being paid by the second.

  “Absolutely. Breathtaking.”

  The back of his index finger smoothed across her cheek, and she moved her face back out of the way. Boy, he was shooting straight from the get-go. Too bad he was aiming for the wrong target.

  “What’s the agenda, and where are we going, exactly?”

  He stood up straight and refocused on walking, pulling her along at a faster pace.

  “Well, it starts at The Storm—”

  She pulled up short, cutting him off.

  “The Storm Bar? The one that practically takes a personal invitation from God himself to get into?”

  He dropped a smug glance to her, obviously quite impressed with himself. And, to be honest, she was pretty damn impressed, too. He feigned humility with a shrug and grinned.

  “The owner owed me a favor. I hooked him up with a totally bangable Asian supermodel who was in town last week.” He smirked then flattened his expression. “I’d have done a whole hell of a lot more than just take her to dinner, but whatever, his loss.” He sniffed and shrugged while Scarlet tried not to roll her eyes back into her head. “Anyway, when I told him I had a date with the hottest woman from my entire six-floor office building, it was all he could do to squeeze us in.”

  “The whole building, huh? Wow. I feel so special.” She scoffed and shook her head.

  He smiled and started walking again, faster still, evidently trying to make up for the lost time she had caused. They stepped out the main double door entrance of her renovated mill condo building, and he gestured to a freshly polished black Lincoln Town Car parked at the curb. She wondered what kind of car Nick drove before sighing in a silent admission of being impressed again.

  She walked up, and he opened the door for her, holding her hand as she climbed in. Just like in the movies. She chewed on her lip. He rounded the car and slid in beside her where he nodded to the driver. The car eased onto the street, and Scarlet shook her head. He had a driver. He had an “in” at The Storm Bar. And for some unfathomable reason, he wanted to use those things on a date with her. She glanced out at the passing lights and was, for a moment, lost in the spectacle of it all.

  Then his hand slid over her knee, and she plummeted back to reality. Oh, hell no. That's right. What was she thinking? She politely removed his hand and glanced at him with one eyebrow raised. He gave her a much sexier version of his million-watt smile, and she could see his pupils dilated in the dim light of the car. He flipped his wrist and put his hand on top of hers, then pulled it and her closer to him, across the back seat. Time to put on the brakes. She sucked in a pained breath and winced. He stares at her a moment, then furrowed his brow and frowned.

  “What?”

  She gestured to her shoulder with her head.

  “Still sore. Sorry.”

  He continued to frown but released her hand. She scooted back to her spot and studiously avoided looking back at him. So far, so good! When they pulled up to the curb, he hopped out, unaffected. He opened her door and held out his hand. She didn't take it. He didn't seem to notice, not even glancing at her as she climbed out. He shook his arm to reveal his watch and clicked his cheek in self-approval.

  “Right on time. Perfect. Shall we?”

  He offered her his elbow and she took it again. They had taken one step when he abruptly halted, stooped with a grumble, tugging her a little off-balance in the process. He popped up holding a wad of paper she hadn’t even noticed.

  “How fucking hard is it," he mumbled. “Can is right there.” He turned to quickly catch her gaze as he brandished the wad. “Trying to keep my streets clean.” He winked and tossed it in the air as they sauntered straight up the black carpet.

  Scarlet allowed herself a small smile. That was pretty refreshing to see, in all honesty. Maybe he wasn’t a complete skeeze-wad.

  He dropped it in the silver bin beside a massive, mountain of a man in a tight black t-shirt who smiled and lifted the purple velvet rope. The bouncer gave Steven a deep, respectful nod as he passed and smirked at her. Apparently, they knew him on sight; he didn’t even give a name.

  She blinked rapidly at the shifting light patterns as her mouth slowly dropped. She had never seen it in person, and it defied all expectations. The entire place was decorated in coal black, steel gray, deep purple, brilliant indigo, and dark maroon. Hovering above the opulent, lush furnishings were the namesake Storm Boxes. Each one had an actual, lab-created thunderstorm roiling inside. Hanging from each box were large crystals which reflected the lightning from all boxes, creating a hypnotizing sporadic strobe effect. She let out a slow, awed breath.

  Steven gave her no time to dawdle, though, and pulled her straight up to the massive, polished, dark oak bar that anchored the room. He gestured to one of the plush purple bar stools, and she sat gingerly. He waved to the bartender who offered him a massive smile and called out to him over the thrum of the loud techno music blaring from the dance floor at the rear of the building.

  “Mr. Greene, Sir! Your usual? What about the lady?”

  Usual? How often did he come here?

  “Evening, Anthony. She'll have the same. Is Vincent in yet? I have someone I'd like him to meet.”

  He finally spared her a sideways glance and gave her his warm smile again.

  So nice of him to remember she was there. And what the hell was 'the same'? He didn't even bother asking what she drank. What if she didn't drink? What would he have done then? In fact, she rarely drank at all! She glanced around the room, lonely despite the throngs of beautiful people milling around.

  Over on the far left of the room was a section extravagantly appointed with large, high-backed booths, and a large round table with about ten chairs around it. There were even more beautiful people in there, though they were mostly women. And the clothes they were almost wearing.

  Several of those women left the room to refill their drinks or dance, which cleared the line of sight. A tall, attractive but deadly looking man elegantly rested at the back of one of the booths, surveying the entire establishment. He had several hulking men in suits around him, each fawning over one of the remaining barely dressed women. He was not. His blond hair and sharp jaw were visible even at that distance as his eyes landed on her, in an unfaltering stare.

  Okay then. Not a warm and fuzzy kind of guy.

  She was snapped to attention by the short tumbler set in front of her which held a dark brown liquid and ice. She raised her eyebrows at Steven, who
hungrily took one of the two in front of him. He inhaled its aroma before taking two big swigs, ending with a satisfied sigh. He measured the glass appraisingly and eyed her.

  “What is it?” she asked, gingerly holding the glass up to her nose.

  “Rum and Coke. Anthony makes the best in the state. Try it.”

  He took another swig, and she lifted her glass to her lips. It wasn't terrible, but it would be far from her favorite. And she'd probably never have one again.

  He watched her take another sip and frowned. He put his now empty glass down on the counter and leaned into her. Anthony appeared out of nowhere, snagged the glass, and wiped off the water ring. The next second a full tumbler identical to the first was in its place.

  “You know, you're going to hurt Anthony's feelings if you don't drink it. He's kinda delicate that way.” He winked at her, and everything in her told her that was a command. Her alarm bells went off, and she remembered her plan again.

  “I have to take it really easy; I'm still on some pain meds.” She gestured apologetically to her shoulder, and he frowned again.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He leaned further into her, most likely to make sure she could hear him over the music. He talked to her ear, his breath making incredibly unwelcome chills pop up on her neck.

  “I guess I'll have to take it easy on you later.”

  He pressed his lips to her pulse point, and she froze, her heart rate spiking erratically. What the hell was he thinking? He grinned against her skin, and she pulled back a bit.

  “Mmm, you smell delicious. Maybe I won't.”

  He leaned in to fill the space she created, and before she could react, he slid his tongue, cold from his drink, up her jaw and quickly bit her. Scarlet yelped and shoved him away.

  “Hey, damn it! That hurt! What's wrong with you?!”

  He laughed and took a long draw of his new drink before he glanced at his watch, then to the back door of the club. She reached up and flinched when she touched her jaw, then drew her fingers back. Thankfully, there was no blood.

  Shit. Things were going downhill fast. Maybe she should fake being sick. Or that she had an emergency. Yeah, that w—

  “Come with me.”

  Steven grabbed her hand, again looking at his watch, and jerked her up from the stool. He pulled her quickly through the crowd to a little side section, opposite the one with the scary-looking man and his brutish entourage. He led her through a beaded curtain and stepped up beside her. He gave her an awkward twirl and gestured to the man seated at a round table in the center of the room.

  “Vincent, I'd like to introduce you to Scarlet Price. Scarlet, this is Vincent, the owner friend I was telling you about.”

  She shot Steven a confused look as the tall, broad-shouldered Italian looking man raised his eyebrows in response. He slowly rose from his seat and approached her with calculated moves.

  “It is an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, mia caro. May I?”

  Well if his appearance weren't enough of a dead giveaway, his gorgeous lyrical accent would for sure have sealed the ‘he’s Italian’ deal.

  She blinked and focused on his hand, held out to her in a polite gesture, but hesitated. What on earth was going on?

  Weird as it was, she put her hand in his. He acted as if he were grateful and placed a chaste kiss on the back of it with some seriously soft lips, before patting and releasing it. Scarlet found her voice and smiled.

  “So, you own the whole bar?”

  Vincent’s smile was slow and, she had to admit, pretty damn sexy. Not as sexy as Nick’s, but still.

  “Principessa, I own a great many things.”

  Scarlet snorted. “Well, that doesn’t sound ominous.”

  Vincent’s smile widened, and he let out a single chuckle.

  “I assure you it’s not. It’s a simple fact. I own this in part and, when necessary, manage the books myself.” He gestured back to the table, covered in neatly arranged piles of paper, then tossed Steven an odd glance before refocusing on her. “I’m also part owner in several other . . .businesses in Twin Bay and Bridgeford, as well as full owner of Primo OTB. Add in my estates here and back home, vehicles, staff . . .” He held his palms up a small shrug.

  Scarlet smiled back. “A great many things. I get it.”

  “Precisely.” His grin widened even more, crinkling his eyes. He tilted his head and scanned the length of her appreciatively, before catching her gaze again. “It’s a shame you waste your time with Mr. Greene and his . . .” he wound his hand in the air, apparently searching for the right word, but kept his eyes on her. “Endless, costly whims.”

  Great, another ominous statement. She was more than ready to call this date a wash.

  “You’ll please excuse my rudeness, mia caro, but I need to finish.” He bowed his head and rounded the table again, taking his seat gracefully. He threw a somewhat unfriendly look to Steven, then his focus fell back to the stacks of papers in front of him, and he spoke without another glance up.

  “I assume you’ll want a comped hotel room as well?”

  Scarlet opened her mouth to very loudly and clearly let him know in no uncertain terms that they did NOT need that, but before she could, a sudden uproar erupted from the bar area. Steven's face thinned, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her from the room. She threw a quick glance back to Vincent, who cast his eyes up from his downturned face and frowned.

  Whether that was for her or Steven she had no idea, but she did know she was getting a little damn sick of being dragged around like a dog.

  Steven pulled her back up to the bar and deposited her on a different seat, then took the seat next to her, closest to Anthony, and shot him an 'I'm going to kill someone' look. Anthony shrugged and gestured toward the VIP area. Scarlet placed her hand on Steven's bicep, and the muscle twitched as he whipped his head around.

  “Do you know those guys over there? That one, in particular, looks almost comically evil.”

  He followed her fingertip to the dangerous man from before. Steven’s mouth twitched into a smirk before he cleared his throat. He turned to face her and leaned his elbow on the bar.

  “Sure don’t, sweetheart. What about you, Anthony?” Steven tossed a glance over his shoulder. “You know any of them?”

  Disgust dribbled down her spine, and she straightened up. What was it with this guy and ‘sweetheart?’

  Anthony pointedly avoided eye contact with either of them as he jammed a towel into the glass in his hand. “No, sir.”

  That sounded oddly angry. A flickering TV screen above the bar drew Steven’s gaze, and Scarlet huffed stray hairs out of her eyes. This was such a stupid idea. He snorted at something, then refocused on her with a smug grin.

  “So, you heard about the mob guy they call ‘The Wolf’?”

  So, this was date conversation? Scarlet picked at her thumbnail. “Nope. Don’t really keep tabs on all things ‘mob’ and ‘crime’ in the city. My team handles customer complaints about ATM fees. Not faulty cement shoes or horse heads lacking in sufficient blood.”

  Anthony barked a laugh, and Steven grinned as he eyed her again. “You’re funny. I like that.” He took another long pull of his drink and set it back down with a heavy thud and a strained sigh. “He’s actually one of this area's major crime bosses. So I've heard. Bit past his prime if you ask me.”

  He muttered the last part and Anthony coughed, earning himself another 'I'm going to kill someone' look. Though, in that instance, it was more of an 'I'm going to kill you' look. Steven turned back to her again and smiled, then changed his volume like he was sharing a secret.

  “Talk is he's on the rise. That he's knocking off his competition one at a time. The cops keep finding dead bodies, each of them shot in the head. At least once.” He shrugged and reached back to grab his drink.

  She’d heard about it, hard to miss really. Twin Bay’s own vigilante. The media called the killer “The Executione
r.” Police confirmed all the victims so far had major ties in the drug and crime world, so she had good riddance mentality, as did most of the city. She leaned her head around his shoulder and froze when she found the man’s unwavering gaze again. He offered her a slow smile and a nod.

  “That's an interesting name, though. Wolf. Wonder why the guy chose it.” She straightened back up.

  Steven shrugged and glanced back to her with a small, humorless smile. “No way to know, really.” He threw back the last swig and exhaled loudly. “Unless you want to hunt him down and ask him?” He set his empty drink down on the bar, and Anthony sobered.

  “Sorry, Mr. Greene. Can I get you another one? Or something different?”

  Steven’s glazed eyes followed the last piece of ice as it swirled around on the bottom of the glass.

  “Nah, I'm good man, thanks. Put it on my tab, yeah?” He smirked as he slid off the stool and gestured to Scarlet with his head. “We've got plans.”

  He checked his watch and winked at Anthony, who creased his brow before smoothing out his expression and nodding firmly.

  Scarlet raised her brows and threw a backward glance to Anthony as Steven tugged her through the front door. She thinned her lips and glared past Steven to the approaching sidewalk. Like hell they did.

  Annalise

  At least they had been, for the most part, accommodating.

  Well, once Nick started complying. And she stopped mouthing off as much. And accommodating meant she had a bed. And a bathroom. And she got food. Once a day. Usually.

  Annalise's sigh died in the vastness of the room as she paced the cold, hard floor for the tenth time that day. The constant sound of gulls grated on her nerves, and she was pretty damn sick of the color gray. At least the large picture windows that covered the top half of every wall kept it from being dark. Except at night, obviously. She groaned in defeat and flopped down on the hard bed, causing the ache in her back to twinge.