Page 18 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy

Picking the lock, even the deadbolt, only took a moment. When I stood up from crouching before it, I noticed the danging chain keeping the door from opening any further. I reached into the outside pocket of the duffle, sliding my lockpicks back in place, and pulled out a slim set of metal cutters.

The thin gold links of the chain weren’t thick enough to stop that, and I snapped through them—quick and easy.

“There we are.”

My voice was a whisper as I moved silently in the shadowed hall. I slipped inside, closing the door behind me before progressing down the short hall to where I knew the bedroom was. The room at the far end of the dark hall was quiet; Billie’s door was left open just a hair.

The rasp of my boots across her carpet was soft and gentle, and as I stepped inside, I took a long look at the beauty sleeping in her bed.

She was wearing only a set of small black boyshorts with smooth lines and an oversized white tee with the faded emblem of Led Zepplin scrawled across the front. Billie’s breathing was slow and even, giving no hint that she might wake up or was already conscious.

I crouched once more, going in the duffle for my secret weapon for jobs like these. Drugs. Obviously.

Tearing the sterile wrapping on a disposal syringe we’d lifted from a medical supply center, I poked the needle through the rubber covering on a bottle of ketamine, which honestly still felt stupid to even think to myself. Ketamine. Fuck, I guess it’s better than using GHB.

I’d been educated in the proper dosage by Parker, Lev’s actually quite useful wife, and I prepared the syringe for my sweet Billie. Filling it and flicking out the bubbles, I stalked over to the side of her bed—deathly silent as I positioned myself to strike.

All right, darlin’. Let’s get you home.

Fast as a damn cobra, I inserted the needle right behind Billie’s ear. The sharp prick startled her out of sleep, and I stepped back, getting out of range of her wild swings. I’d covered my face appropriately, of course, so I wasn’t too concerned about her screaming out my name or something.

As it was, Billie just spun around, glaring daggers before her eyelids began to droop, and she stumbled off the side of her bed.

“Son of a bit—”

Her words dropped off as she passed out, and I lept forward to catch her in my arm, breaking her fall. I laid her back across the bed, waiting a few moments to be sure she was out.

Once I was sure she was good to go, I hurried through her tiny closet and dresser to find a few items, smashed her phone and threw it in the trash, and then got the fuck out of dodge.

***

A few hours later, in the comfort of my frilly-ass bedroom, Billie woke up—groggy and shaky but still very clearly pissed.

“What the…” She held out a hand as she tried to steady herself, gripping her head. “Where am I? What did you do!”

I couldn’t hold back the smirk as I looked over her, her long legs so beautifully exposed as she sat in my bed. I loved seeing her there, all wrapped up in my blankets, covering them with her alluring scent.

“Morning, sweetheart.” I glanced over at the alarm clock on the bed, seeing that it was 4:15 a.m. “Well, morning enough.”

Billie’s eyes flared open, and she looked straight at me. Her body visibly clenched, and I just continued to smile as the dawning realization made her eyebrows hit her hairline. Her stare raked over me, her brow furrowing as she put two and two together.

“You?”

The tiny thread of her voice was barely a whisper, and Billie’s hands fell to the mattress.

“Me.” I nodded, leaning back in the chair I’d parked in front of the door. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Pearce. Though, I think I’ll call you Billie from now on.”

Panic gave way to anger in her expression as Billie let it fuel her. “You fucking prick. You kidnapped me. Are you insane?”

“The jury may be out on that one. But,” I crossed my ankle over my knee, “what I am for certain is out of time. And you, Billie dearest, are going to help me.”

She glared all the harder, her hands balling into fists.

“Don’t fucking talk about me like you know me.” She sunk into herself, her thighs clearly flexing, ready to bolt. “And don’t fucking call me Billie.”

I didn’t move, maintaining my ever-relaxed position. She wasn’t going anywhere after all.

“Would you prefer sweetheart? Darlin’?” I narrowed my eyes at her, pegging Billie with a hard stare. “Or maybe we should just call you what you are.”

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