Ruthless Beauty: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance, page 5
I choke on my laugh.
“He totally looks like a Grumpy Fabio.”
“Don’t you dare let Emilio hear you call him that,” I warn. “He will kick your ass.”
“He can try.” Rhys straightens to his full, impressive height.
I laugh. “You’re insane. He’s like twice your size.”
“What? No he’s not.” Rhys looks totally offended. “I’m not nearly as bulky as him, but he’s not twice my size. I could take him down.”
“Whatever you say,” I mutter, as Emilio reappears on the dilapidated porch.
“All clear!” he calls, turning and going back inside.
Rhys helps me navigate the terrain leading to the cabin. It sucks that I had no time to go home and get proper footwear, clothing, and everything else. But when we cross the threshold, those thoughts are shoved aside.
This place is tiny. The main room has a dinky kitchen, a table for two, one couch that’s positioned in front of a wood stove—and probably the only heat source, because it’s not much warmer in here than it is outside. I can see one small bedroom and a bathroom across the hall. That’s it.
“Emilio, where are we all supposed to sleep?” I ask him.
He’s busily making a fire in the cast iron stove, and doesn’t even bother to face me. “I’ll take the couch. You two can have the bed.”
“Okay,” I easily agree. Rhys and I have shared a bed plenty of times.
Rhys stiffens beside me and I turn a curious gaze on him. His features are tight, his jaw ticking. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he had a problem with the sleeping arrangements. But he doesn’t say anything as he heads to the kitchen counter.
He goes through the canned food in the cabinet. “I can work with this. Dinner will be ready at six,” he calls out.
I move further into the cabin to explore. Sure enough, the one bedroom has a full size bed that’s shoved up against the wall on one side. Cozy. The bathroom across the hall is a nightmare. The cramped space has a tub and shower, sink, and toilet, but the door handle is broken and won’t lock. On the plus side, besides a thin layer of dust, the place is pretty clean.
Shivering, I pull my wool coat closer, and head over to the wood stove where a fire is crackling to life. Emilio feeds it a couple more logs, then closes the little door that has a glass window in it.
“Thanks for doing this, Emilio.” I rub my hands together for warmth. “I know you don’t want to be babysitting me.”
He stands and looks down at me. “I’m just following orders,” he grunts, then goes outside to bring in more firewood from the porch.
I purse my lips. Emilio has never been especially warm to me, but… ouch. He doesn’t have to be so rude.
Lending a hand, I set the table for dinner and try to find another chair, or something for the third person to sit on. I finally find a rickety little stool in the hall closet. Before long, the cabin is toasty and smells like stew. We dish up and gather around the table for a quick, awkwardly quiet dinner.
Glancing at the two very different men, I finally break the silence. “I can’t get a signal here. Do either of you have reception?”
Rhys shakes his head.
Emilio mutters, “No.”
“Then how is Griffin supposed to call us?”
“Satellite phone.” Emilio finishes his stew and rinses his bowl out. “We move at dawn. Get some sleep.” He plops down on the couch, ignoring us.
I eye him. However long we’re going to have to do this whole safe house thing, it’s going to feel like an eternity in hell. What is Emilio’s problem? I already said I’m sorry he has to do this stupid task. We both know it’s bullshit.
Rhys grabs my empty bowl and takes it with him to the sink. “I’m going to turn in. See you in there.” He heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
With a sigh, I wipe down the table, dry and put away our dishes, then say, “Good night,” to Emilio as I head to the bedroom. He doesn’t return the nicety.
What do I like about him again? Oh right, he’s sexy as fuck, and honestly the whole being ignored all the time thing only makes me more determined to get his attention. Call me fucked up, or a damn masochist, but his cold shoulder totally turns me on. Sometimes I imagine him whispering rude, depraved things in my ear while he fucks me from behind.
Ah, a girl can dream.
Since all I have to wear is my Chanel dress, that’s had a rough day, I hang it in the small closet, then climb into bed wearing my black bra and panty set. Normally I’d sleep naked, but I don’t want to make Rhys uncomfortable. He already had to deal with my nude, drunk ass last night. I can spare him all of that tonight.
He clicks off the light as he comes to bed. The heat from the wood stove doesn’t quite reach into this room, and the sheets are freezing, so I snuggle against Rhys’s warmth. This bed is barely large enough for two people anyway, so there’s really no other option.
He stiffens against me, his muscles stony and unyielding. I pull back enough to look at his face. “What’s wrong? And don’t bullshit me.” I use his words from earlier today.
“You really want to know?” His voice is tight.
“Of course I do. You’re my best friend.” At least I hope that’s still the case since this strange distance has grown between us.
His arms loop around me and crush me to his chest. The embrace is slightly painful, but I don’t try to get away, sensing that he needs me here.
His voice is muffled by my hair when he says, “Fucking hell, I almost lost you today. You’re my whole fucking world, Phoenix, I can’t…” His tone turns gruff as he trails off.
I slide my arms around his middle and pull him closer even though there’s not an inch left between us as it is. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what I’m apologizing for because it sure as hell wasn’t my fault someone tried to blow me up, but it’s the only thing I can think of in response to his distress. If the situation was reversed, I’d be having a fucking meltdown over nearly losing him.
“It could have been so much worse,” I say. “Thankfully Griffin and I are both okay. No one got hurt.”
“And no one is going to get hurt either.” He rubs his palms up and down my back. “I know you can look after yourself, but I want you to stay close to me and Grumpy Fabio. We’ll keep you safe.”
“You need to stop calling him that,” I say automatically, lightly chastising.
“I’m serious, I can’t lose you. We’ve been through everything together, and we’ll get through this together too. Promise me that.”
His heart is beating too fast against my ear. I need to calm him down. Lifting up onto my elbows, I gaze down at his face. “I promise we’ll get through this too.” I sweep a curl of hair off his forehead. “Everything is going to be okay.”
He holds me close again and I listen as his pulse begins to settle.
Without him having to tell me, I know exactly what’s going through his mind. He’s thinking of his mother. She died when he was seven years old and her loss devastated him. We met at her funeral. I found Rhys around the side of the church, crying.
He’d tried to hide his face. When I asked him why he was crying outside, he told me that his father said the one thing he couldn’t do at his mother’s funeral was cry.
What kind of asshole father says that to their seven year old son who just lost one of his parents?
I remember feeling so sad for him, and coming in close to hug him while he cried, telling him it was all right to let his feelings out. We’d been inseparable ever since.
We stay like this, in each other’s arms, for a long time lost in our own thoughts.
At some point he murmurs in my hair, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
A more recent memory pops unbidden to my mind. One of me confessing my true feelings for Rhys and him crushing my hopes. I can still hear him telling me I’m like a sister to him, and how he’s not into incest. It wasn’t so much the words themselves that hurt, but rather the tone in which he said them.
I’ve never heard him be more disgusted.
After a year away from him, I still feel ashamed when I think about that day. I was such a fool. Back then, I just couldn’t bear the thought of him hooking up with someone else while I was gone if there were romantic feelings between us. I’d been so wrong in my assumption.
Our relationship is strictly platonic.
It seems like Rhys has forgotten all about it. Or at least he hasn’t said a word, even if he has been kind of distant lately. I want nothing more than to bury that conversation forever. To my mind, it never happened.
And I will never speak of it, or my feelings for Rhys, ever again. We’re best friends—that’s all. It’s enough because it has to be.
CHAPTER 5
Torsten
I mingle with the crowd at Club O, sipping a vodka tonic. It’s Saturday, New Years Day, and the place is packed with those who didn’t get enough partying in last night. Speaking of last night… All day long, I haven’t been able to get a pair of bright green eyes, deep auburn hair, and the most delicious pussy out of my head. She’d been a welcome distraction, but still a distraction.
My gaze follows my target along a narrow hallway. Casually, I head in that direction as well.
Rumor has it that Club O is owned by the notorious gangster, Griffin Cole, but so are half the clubs in Reaper Falls. I was supposed to finish this job last night, until a certain redhead took me off course. My valkyrie was well worth it. Though now I have to finish what I came to this city to do in this establishment instead of at Masked.
I’ve been following my target for the past few weeks and found his routine rather quickly. He’s a creature of habit. Room 9 and a certain stripper named Cherry occupied every single one of his Saturday nights, instead of his wife. Tonight is no different.
Stopping in the hallway right outside his private room, I take the detonator out of the pocket of my leather jacket and press the button. Right now, in the security room upstairs, one of their control panels has just gone up in smoke, killing half their security cameras. It’s going to take them a while to get them back online.
I trade the device for a bowie knife, and enter Room 9. A girl is dancing in front of the lonely, gray-haired politician while he jerks off. She notices me first and screams, making him turn around, his eyes wide with fear.
Wasting no time, I draw the blade across his throat. The deep gash gushes blood all down his front, soaking his white shirt in crimson as he struggles. It’s not the cleanest way to kill, but this was a special request, even the knife was specified. I collect a vial of blood—also a term of this contract—and put the stopper in it. The whole ordeal has a kind of ritualistic tone to it that I find interesting.
Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture of the dead man. All while the stripper is curled up in a corner, staring at me with huge, fearful eyes framed by unnaturally bright red hair. I place the knife in a plastic bag, then put it and the vial securely in my jacket pockets.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, Cherry,” I say, and her eyes bulge when I use her name. I drop a hundred dollar bill on the floor next to her. “Forget my face.”
She doesn’t respond, but she does avert her gaze.
I slip out of the room and stroll away. Once outside, I upload the picture to a secure server drop site. A minute later a notification appears telling me that funds have been deposited in my account. I still have to get this blood and knife sent on their way, but other than that, I’m done. Job complete.
Retirement, here I fucking come.
I get on my Harley, but before I can start it up, my phone vibrates again. I glance at the screen, then do a double-take, and slide open the app. It’s a new job posting, offering a fucking fortune in pay. But that’s not what snagged my attention. I click the thumbnail image to get a better look at it and I swear it’s my valkyrie gazing back at me.
Before I can think it through, I accept the job. Only one person is allowed to hunt for my temptress—me.
It seems our paths will be crossing again soon.
I make it home, to where my yacht is harbored in Punishers Cove, in just under an hour. Secure in my mobile headquarters, I get to work on my next job. The full file comes through on my computer and I eagerly dive in.
That’s her all right. Same gorgeous green eyes, dark red hair, and unforgettable lips. I remember the feel of them against mine, the way she felt in my hands, and how her cunt took my cock like she was made for me.
My valkyrie’s name is actually Phoenix Cole. Phoenix. She sure is a firebird. Her name suits her perfectly.
I frown at the next line: Sister of Griffin Cole.
What a small, small world.
I peruse the rest of her file, learning everything I can about her. Then click over to the contract details. Who wants my valkyrie dead? The information there is filled in as anonymous. No wonder the payout is so good. This job reeks of secrecy and danger.
I lean back in my chair, sweeping my hair out of my face. Taking this job means I have no idea who I’m working for, or why. The money is so good that it demands no questions are asked.
Scrolling down to the special requests section, I read them over and something in my chest clenches. Whoever this fucker is, they want her raped, beaten, then killed—and video clips of it all.
I never take these types of jobs. This kind of snuff film shit is not my thing at all. Not until now, anyway. I’ll make an exception for my valkyrie. The thought of anyone else laying their hands on my goddess has my heart pounding and my fingers curling into fists. I’ll fucking kill them. She’s mine.
Retirement can wait a little longer. This will be my last job.
Now all I have to do is find my valkyrie and go to her. Will she welcome me with open arms, or will I need to fight her into submission? Either way is fine with me. I’ll take her any way that I can get her.
A smile spreads my lips wide. Now my pulse is pounding with anticipation for the hunt, and the capture. I look forward to seeing her again.
And once I have my hands on her, I’m going to take my time with every inch of her perfect body. I’ll peer into her green eyes until I see every corner of her soul. I will own her in ways she doesn’t know are possible. Yet.
CHAPTER 6
Phoenix
You’ve got to be shitting me! I swear, that reaction is coming out of me way too often these days, but I can’t help it. What did I wake up to this morning? Snow. Lots of fucking white shit falling from the sky. It had to have started sometime late last night, because there are literally feet of it outside the cabin.
We are going absolutely nowhere today. That’s a fact.
I frown into my drip coffee like it’s to blame for the crappy weather. Even the pancakes Rhys whipped up for us this morning didn’t brighten my sour mood.
Rhys nudges me. “Careful with that expression. If you keep it up for too long your face will start to look like Emilio’s.”
Across the table, Emilio scowls at him, then continues shoveling in mouthfuls of pancakes and maple syrup.
“You’re such a dick.” I shove away my coffee cup.
“You say that now, but wait until you see what I found in one of the cupboards.” Rhys gets up from the table and goes to the far side of the kitchen. He opens a cabinet door, revealing a fully stocked, top shelf bar. “At least Griffin has good taste in booze.”
I shake my head at my brother. Of course Griff would have a cabin in the woods with nothing but canned and packaged foods to eat, but an abundance of liquor.
“Ah, and there’s more.” Rhys reaches behind a couple of bottles and pulls out a bag of… weed. “I can’t tell how old it is, but it smells fine.”
I lift a brow. “So, what, you want to spend the day drinking and getting high?”
Rhys shrugs. “There is literally nothing else to do around here. No TV, no internet, hell, I only found one board game in the hallway closet, and not even a deck of cards.”
“No,” Emilio says. “No one is drinking or smoking. It’s too dangerous.”
Rhys and I both stare at him like he’s lost his mind.
“Um, hello.” I wave one hand in the air. “We are literally snowed in, miles from the nearest town, and not a single person knows where the fuck we are, except Griffin. How are we still in danger out here?”
Emilio’s scowl deepens. “I said no. I’m in charge here. That’s final.”
I cross my arms under my breasts. “You’re just being mean.”
“That’s right.” He stands, collecting up our empty plates. “Get used to it, princess.”
I gape up at him. Besides the fact that this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, he’s being so rude.
I glance over at Rhys, who shrugs and says, “Board game?”
“Sure.” I glare at the back of Emilio’s head, while Rhys retrieves the game. “Do you want to play a game with us?”
“I don’t play games. Games are for children.” He washes and dries the dishes, his shoulder muscles bunching with each motion.
“Figures,” I mumble.
Done with my coffee, I go to the sink to wash my mug, crowding Emilio just to annoy him. My arm brushes his and he jerks away as if I’m deathly contagious. What is his problem? Seriously.
“What are you doing?” he asks, side-eyeing me.
“Washing my cup.”
“No you’re not.”
I shuffle closer to him. “What does this look like?” I hold up my soapy mug for him to examine, pressing my hip against his leg.
His eyes narrow. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Whatever you’re really doing.”
I sigh, tired of this game. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“Hate’s a strong word.” He looks away.
“Okay. Why are you always either ignoring me or saying rude shit?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He puts the dishes away in the glass front cabinet.
