Page 18 of His Captive Pet

Once he was inside the truck, the engine purring and ready to go, he pulled out his phone and brought up the text from Greg.

“You need to understand, Aubree. Because the longer you keep yourself under the illusion that you’re not in trouble, the longer this process is going to take you.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. What?”

He clicked the link and let the news clip play for her. She watched the coverage with large eyes, and panic covered her features. Watching fear take hold set off his protective instincts, but he had to make sure she understood. Going home was a one-way ticket to the morgue.

“My house.” She looked to him, reality starting to finally sink in.

“Greg sent this. He said the fire department and police are crawling all over your street. There’s a bunch of news crews at the bar.” He clicked off the newsreel and put the phone away. “You get it now, right? Jorge blames you for the raid.”

“I had nothing to do with it.” She shook her head. “Not really. I don’t think.”

Blake’s stomach clenched. “What does that mean?”

“I had a file. Pictures of some of the guys who came to the fights. Names and stuff. But no one knew I had it. No one.” Tears built up in her eyes, but didn’t fall.

“You were collecting names and pictures? What were you going to do, take down the whole gang by yourself?” Given the fear already in her eyes, he kept his voice even, but he had the urge to take her back into the hunting cabin and strap some sense into her.

She blinked and straightened in her seat. “What do I do now?”

“Now you tell me everything. No more secrets, no more vigilante shit.”

She shook her head. “I don’t trust you.”

Four words, four simple words, yet they hit him in the gut with the force of a steel fist. She didn’t trust him.

“Well, unfortunately for you, that doesn’t matter. You don’t have anyone else at the moment, do you? And Jorge isn’t going to back off because you give him puppy dog eyes.” Her phone buzzed in his back pocket, but he ignored it. He took his phone back from her then went about strapping her in for the ride. He made sure his hand dragged across her breasts as he pulled the belt over her chest and snapped it in place at her hip. “Sit tight.”

She didn’t trust him.

He’d always been the one everyone trusted. When someone needed help getting out of a tight spot, they called him. The Marines lived and died by the trust they put into one another, and he’d always honored that trust. He’d been entrusted to raise Greg after their parents died, he’d been given the responsibility to keep his country safe and then his city protected, but this slip of a girl, this woman he’d met in his damn bar didn’t trust him?

The truck jostled, and she yelped as he hit the gas and sped up onto the highway ramp, leaving the wooded security behind them. She wiggled in her seat, trying to find a comfortable spot.

Not an easy task, he figured, considering how hard he’d strapped her thighs as well as her delicious ass. Any lingering doubt he’d harbored after delivering the punishment washed away with the disgruntled look she continued to shoot at him.

Chapter Eight

It took thirty minutes to get from the little shack in the woods to wherever Blake was taking them next. Aubree sat beside him in the truck actively ignoring him. Lucky for her, he’d taken to playing the same game and kept his focus on the road.

She shimmied in her seat, still not finding a spot to sit that didn’t irritate her backside. Her ass had to be swollen, and she wouldn’t be surprised to see it covered in bruises. He had been relentless and decisive with that damn strap, and she could still feel the effects.

What bothered her more, the effect of the strapping gnawed at her like a caged rat. After he’d left her in the room by herself she’d raged. Not just at him, but at herself, because next to the anger was her arousal. He’d been so authoritative, so strict. It plagued her.

True, she had sought out strong dominants the few times she’d gone to Dark Lace, but she had rarely found one—not like Blake. But she’d known it had to be why she had been so drawn to him over the past months. He wouldn’t give in, he wouldn’t falter. The asshole had given her exactly what she wanted. Of course, he’d showed her his dominant side after abducting her and forcing her out of Chicago. Now she wanted to kick in him in the face as much as she wanted to kiss him.

Just like fate, to show her what she wanted and put it just a hairsbreadth out of her reach.

She wiggled her ankles. In their bound state, they itched, and more than anything she wanted to move them. About halfway through the ride, she’d leaned back and put her feet on the dash, but without saying a word, Blake reached over and shoved them down. As tempting as it would have been to put them right back, she remembered his promise of hog-tying her, and just sighed in irritation.

The truck pulled off the main paved road and headed down another dirt path. She looked at the back seat to check on Samuel. He’d never been out of the city before. He slept coiled up in the corner, resting easy as you please. At least Blake had brought him along; he hadn’t ignored her dog. She could probably forgive him for breaking into her house for that reason alone.

If he hadn’t, Samuel would have died in the fire. She closed her eyes for a moment. The fire had wiped out her house. It was gone, along with all of her possessions. Everything just—gone.

Luis would try to contact her soon. He was the only one who could vouch for her. He could convince them she wasn’t involved in tipping off the cops about the raid. But would he? Or did he know she took notes and pictures, had he seen her?

The truck rolled up to a closed gate, and she leaned forward to get a look at her surroundings. Trees. Bushes. More trees.

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