Finders Keepers (Syndicate Book 1) Read online

  His body crashed down on mine, crushing me into the mattress face first.

  “I warned you, pixie,” he growled in my ear.

  I felt his hands grasp the waistband of my yoga pants and roughly pull them down over my ass. I felt his weight shift just before one of his hands came down with a resounding slap on one cheek, and I yelped.

  “Get off me,” I screamed.

  “Quiet, pixie. You’ve earned this today.”

  He continued to deliver smack after smack to both of my ass cheeks until my eyes stung with tears.

  “Please, stop,” I cried.

  He stopped spanking me, but only so he could pull me up on my knees. It was then I felt him roughly shove a finger inside me.

  “So wet for me,” he groaned, his voice rough with excitement.

  I squirmed in an unsuccessful bid to get away. “No, please. Please stop.” My tears were flowing freely now. I didn’t want this. I tried to kick.

  He withdrew his finger from me, and I heaved a sigh of relief and began to relax until his hands grasped my hips and pulled me back with such force that he impaled me on his cock. I screamed in pain. He was too big. Too long, too thick. Too rough. It hurt too much. He proceeded to pound into me, his thrusts forceful and sure. The more I struggled to get away, the tighter his grip on my hips became.

  “Fuck, pixie, you are so tight. Exquisite.” He continued to grunt and groan until his orgasm overtook him and he came inside me.

  I lay limp, like a rag doll, while he pulled out of me and turned me over to face him.

  “You will not misbehave again. Sarah did not deserve what you did to her. I’ve already dealt with Keith.”

  That got my attention briefly. “Keith?” I croaked, my mouth dry and my throat sore.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “The guard that fell down on the job of keeping you in this room,” he clarified.

  “Oh.”

  I tried to move away from him, but he wouldn’t allow me any slack. In fact, he only pulled me closer, and tucked me into him as though we were lovers cuddling after making love.

  “Rest, pixie. I was rough with you.”

  “Rough? That’s a funny way of saying ‘rape.’” I was hurting. I got snarky.

  He didn’t answer me at first. Finally, he replied, “You are mine, pixie. I found you.”

  We laid there awkwardly for a several minutes before he stood up and scooped me up into his arms.

  “Put. Me. Down,” I insisted.

  “Stop struggling, pixie. You’re getting a bath, that’s all,” he explained as he strode into the bathroom, setting me down on the toilet.

  I sat there frozen as he ran the bath water, adding both oil and bubbles. When the oversized soaking tub was full, he forced me to stand, stripped me of my clothing, and scooped me back up to settle me inside the luxurious bath. The hot water felt good on my sore muscles, particularly the ache between my thighs. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, refusing to look at Jensen. He watched me for a moment more before turning and striding out of the room. I heard him moving around the bedroom briefly, followed by the slamming of the door. In my isolation, I began to cry again.

  Chapter 5

  Charlotte

  The next morning, I felt conflicted, and because I felt conflicted, I felt frustrated with myself. There was absolutely no excuse for what Jensen did to me last night, and when I woke up this morning and took stock of all my aches and pains, it made me angry all over again. I was having a difficult time reconciling the Jensen that spanked me and forced himself on me with the Jensen who held me tenderly afterward and drew me a bath so I could recuperate. Who provides after care to someone they’ve just raped? I understood it was a power play. A show of dominance because I had defied him. But I didn’t understand why he handled me with care afterward, like he felt remorse. I didn’t understand that twisted man at all.

  Unable to lie in bed for another moment without fear of my bladder bursting, I padded to the bathroom for a pee and a shower. As I undressed, my eyes caught on the fingerprints bruising my pale flesh, and I felt my anger rise all over again. Mid-shower, something else struck me. Jensen didn’t wear a condom. I wasn’t on birth control. I swore to God, I was going to kill that bastard before I left here. I almost wished I had an STD just so I could have given it to him. It’s the least he deserved.

  I toweled off and softly padded over to the closet in the hopes of finding something to wear. Much to my surprise it was stocked, but it was full of dresses. I moved to the dresser hoping I’d have better luck there, and I did. The dresser was stocked too, but it was full of things like socks, underwear, and casual clothes. I pulled on fresh panties, a bra, and socks before pulling out a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. It seemed that whomever stocked the clothing neglected to supply shoes, and my boots were still missing.

  With nothing else to occupy me, I figured there was no harm in checking the door. Besides, I wanted to see who my guard was if Keith truly had been ‘dealt with’ as Jensen claimed. Unsurprisingly, the doorknob refused to budge, and I would have tried my hand at picking it if I didn’t know for sure there was a big, burly guard standing watch on the other side. I rapped my knuckles on the door, and it swung open almost immediately.

  “You have permission to leave your room, provided it is with an escort and you must stay inside the house,” says the guard I had dubbed slightly less scary than Keith.

  His tone and facial expression brooked no argument.

  Taking a deep breath, I decided to catch a fly with honey. “What’s your name?”

  “Jason,” he replied, expressionless.

  I gave a small smile. “Hi, Jason. I’m Charlotte,” I introduced myself.

  Jason says nothing and gives nothing away. He simply stares at me.

  “You said I can move about the house, Jason?” Saying someone’s name fosters a sense of familiarity, and my goal was to get Jason to think of me as a friend. I needed all the advantages I could get.

  He nodded once and stepped back to let me pass, but as I began moving down the hall, I felt him at my back. I guess I really was getting that escort.

  I casually moved down the hall toward the library, but before I could even lay my hand on the door, Jason redirected me to the stairs. I should have realized it wasn’t going to be that easy. I already knew the basic layout of the house, but I didn’t want to give away what little advantage I had, so I pretended to wander aimlessly as though I was just exploring. I continued to move through the house with Jason at my back. I took note of the guard at the front door and the one at the back door as we entered the kitchen.

  Also in the kitchen was Sarah. Crap. She’s the one person who had been kind to me up until this point, and I fucking punched her for her efforts. Despite my life and death circumstances, I felt like a total ass for what I did to her. I cleared my throat.

  “Hey, Sarah,” I said quietly.

  She froze in place, and slowly set the knife down that she’d been using to peel apples.

  Before she could say anything, I rushed ahead with an apology. “Look, I’m really sorry about hitting you. I was desperate, and I really need to get out of here. It wasn’t anything personal. In fact, you were the only person who had been kind to me, and I really like you. I’m really sorry.”

  Sarah assessed me for several moments, probably trying to determine if I was being sincere or blowing smoke up her ass. I guess I must have passed, because eventually she gave me a curt nod and then picked up her knife and resumed peeling her apples.

  I decided to press my luck. “What are you making? Can I help?”

  If I could make a friend out of Sarah, I’d have one more ally on the inside.

  Her movements paused before she passed me a bowl of blueberries and gestured toward the sink. I guessed she wanted me to wash them. I had been hoping she would have allowed me to peel the apples, so she could have passed me a knife, but she clearly wasn’t stupid. Besides, it’s unlikely that Jason
, my shadow, would have let me get far with it.

  I washed the blueberries and carefully picked out any stems, leaves, or damaged fruit before settling the bowl back on the counter. Sarah continued to ignore me, so I stood there patiently awaiting my next instruction. She eventually gave me a large mixing bowl and a recipe card. The recipe was for a blueberry-apple cobbler. I looked around the kitchen in search of the ingredients I’d need, and Sarah directed me to the pantry. Once I’d collected everything, I sat down at the kitchen table to mix everything we needed for the crumble topping. While I worked on the cobbler, Sarah made me breakfast. Sarah and I worked together to get the cobbler in the oven, and I couldn’t help but salivate at the smell, despite the heaping plate of bacon and eggs Sarah forced me to eat.

  “Is there anything else I can do?” I ask Sarah.

  She glanced around the kitchen once, but then shook her head in response.

  “Okay, well thank you for letting me help you,” I say with a small smile.

  I’m not quite sure she’s forgiven me yet, but I definitely made progress.

  I turned to Jason, who had stood guard not more than 5 feet from me all morning. “Can we walk outside?” I asked, hopefully.

  “No,” was his only reply, his tone final.

  Wracking my brain for a way to garner some trust, I finally said, “Okay, well, you guys got a T.V. around here?”

  Jason gave me another wordless nod and led me into a den area filled with comfortable-looking, overstuffed couches and an 80-inch television. I pulled one of the quilts off the back of one of the couches, and settled in with the remote. Maybe if Jason saw that I was making myself at home and wasn’t so eager to escape, he’d let his guard down a little. That was my hope, anyway.

  I got up once or twice to stretch my legs and ate lunch in the kitchen with Sarah and Jason. After once again trying to talk Jason into taking me outside, and failing, I made myself comfortable on the couch once again and settled in for a mindless afternoon.

  Chapter 6

  Charlotte

  I’m woken up by a feeling of weightlessness. Feeling like I was about to fall, I flailed my arms and legs in an attempt to catch myself.

  “Easy, pixie, I’ve got you,” Jensen soothed.

  “Put me down, please,” I begged. My mind is still repulsed by what he did to me, and I’m ashamed of my body’s compliance.

  Jensen ignored my plea, and carried me up the stairs to my room. He let himself in and strode toward the bed.

  “No!” I cried out in panic.

  “Shh. I’m only putting you to bed,” he said. “I cannot allow you to sleep on the couch all night.”

  “Just let me go!” I demand as he set me down just long enough to pull the bedding back.

  He scooped me up and deposited me in the middle of the bed.

  “Sleep, pixie. Tomorrow will be better,” he said, and with that, he turned and left.

  Sleep, right. I scrambled out of the bed and into the bathroom. The recent proximity to Jensen left a feeling of desperation in my bones. I started to frantically search the bathroom for anything that could help me get out of here. A weapon, maybe, or a tool of some kind, any kind. I don’t know what I expected to find that would be different from any other time I searched. The cabinets were bare except for bathroom necessities- extra rolls of toilet paper, bath towels, toiletries. I didn’t even have a razor.

  I slumped down onto the floor in defeat. The only thing I still had was my trusty lock pick set that I had hidden under the mattress the first night here. Everything else was in my duffle that I had left at the property’s perimeter the night I arrived, and I’m sure Jensen’s men would have found it by now. I was utterly and completely screwed.

  “Everything alright in here?”

  A guard’s voice shocked me out of my moping. I didn’t even hear the stealthy bastard come in.

  “Everything’s fine. Who are you?” I noticed him surveying the semi-trashed bathroom.

  “You might want to clean that up. You don’t want to make Sarah do it,” he said pointedly but neglected to answer my question.

  “No. Right. I’ll clean it up. Thanks.”

  With a nod, he was gone again.

  After I tidied the bathroom, I crawled back into bed. There was nothing else I could do then, so I slept.

  The morning brought sunshine, singing birds, and Sarah. With breakfast.

  “You’re an angel,” I smiled at her.

  She’d brought me stuffed French toast with a side of fresh fruit and coffee. What she didn’t bring me, was a smile. Guess she hadn’t quite forgiven me yet. After depositing my breakfast on the side table, she scurried out. My appetite was back full force, and I practically inhaled my food. Once I was done, I scrubbed myself raw in the shower and got dressed. I had just finished tugging my shirt on when there was a knock on the door. Before I could answer, it swung open.

  “Good morning, my pixie,” Jensen uttered.

  The heat in my blood warred with the fear in my bones. I swallowed roughly.

  “Come with me,” he commanded, albeit gently.

  I didn’t really have a choice but to obey. I learned that lesson the hard way. If I was going to get out of here, it would be by using my brain, not my brawn (or lack thereof.) I followed Jensen out into the hallway, down the stairs, and straight to the set of French doors he had led me out the first night we had dinner together. Once we were outside, he bade me to sit in one of the chairs. Sarah arrived with more coffee, and we sat in silence for several moments.

  “It’s a lovely day, pixie, wouldn’t you agree?”

  His voice startled me. Such a banal subject, particularly from my captor. “Yes, it’s lovely,” I agree. Anything to keep him in a good mood.

  “I’m told you were extremely well behaved yesterday,” he commented, as though I had been a naughty child previously, and he was then praising me. Why was I pleased by his approval?

  He regarded me intently. “Come. We’ll walk the grounds.”

  I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of spending more time in Jensen’s presence, but I jumped at the opportunity to check out the property in the daylight. Any small detail could potentially help me form an escape plan. I took note of the security the same way I did when I originally cased the property. I inspected the terrain, and looked for anywhere the ground might be uneven or that might have presented an obstacle for me while running for my life. Running for Chace’s life.

  Neither of us spoke as we strolled around the manicured lawn and passed the rose bushes. Occasionally, I’d feel Jensen’s gaze on me. My skin would overheat, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. If I turned his way, I could detect the lust in his eyes.

  “Are you ready to tell me why you’re here?” Jensen inquired, although he sounded like he didn’t really expect an explanation.

  I contemplated my answer for a moment. So far, being tight lipped has gotten me nowhere. I started to consider that since Dmetri Sokolov was a scary-ass motherfucker, then maybe it would do me well to have my own scary-ass motherfucker on my side. Maybe I could get Jensen to work with me instead of against me. I decided to take a gamble.

  “I need Ivan the Terrible’s amulet.”

  “You need it? Why?” he narrowed his gaze. “You wish to sell it?”

  “No. I wish to trade it,” I specified.

  Jensen seemed surprised. “Trade it? For what?”

  “Not what. Whom,” I sighed dejectedly.

  When he looked at me expectantly, I decided to lay it all out there and deal with whatever fall out I needed to if and when it happened. “My brother, Chace. He’s being held hostage and the price of his freedom, the price of his life, is that amulet.” I could hear the despair in my voice, and though I would have preferred not to reveal my weakness to this man, I can’t help that it bleeds through.

  “And tell me, pixie, who is it that holds your brother hostage and forces you to break into the home of a man such as myself in order to attempt t
o steal it?”

  Knowing that this moment could make or break Chace’s life, depending on whether or not Jensen chose to help me, I took a deep breath, looked Jensen in the eye, and said, “Dmetri Sokolov.”

  Jensen’s entire body turned to stone. His expression hardened and his eyes were suddenly hard and cold.

  “J- Jensen?” I stuttered.

  He didn’t respond; he only stared.

  The buzzing of his phone cut through the tension. Jensen snapped to attention and gave a signal to Jason to escort me back into the house while he took his call.