Page 23 of Red

“Erik. Please.” She tugged on the cuffs, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere. The height of the restraints pulled her to her toes, elongating her body even more for him.

He plucked a knife off the wall, admiring the craftmanship of the blade. Nothing but the best for the worst men.

At least it was clean.

Erik quietly went to work, cutting through the fabric of her pants and tearing the jeans away from her. She stopped her wiggles when the blade brushed her thigh. If she got cut, it would be her own doing.

The thin blouse tore easily from her arms. He gathered the ruined materials and tossed them to the corner, leaving her naked before him.

“Please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” Her words tumbled out. All the fire, all the anger from upstairs was gone, leaving her heaving for breath and begging. Making the fire in her burn brighter, and his desire for her reach white-hot levels.

“What did your parents do for a living?” he asked, returning to stand in front of her, the knife still in his right hand. He needed to remain focused. Get through to her for once and for all that he wasn’t the monster she thought, and she needed him more than she knew.

She looked up at her hands then at the knife. “My father was a carpenter. My mom stayed home with me.” She took a breath between each sentence.

Erik mulled the information over. “Did your father work on his own or for a company? A union?”

She blinked. “I don’t know. For a company, I think.” She twisted her hands, trying to squeeze through the binds. Wouldn’t happen. He was no stranger to bondage, though typically his women writhed with pleasure not fear.

“What company?”

“I don’t know!” she screamed out, panic filling her words. “I was a kid! I didn’t pay attention to stuff like that.”

His jaw set. He’d never been hidden from his family’s business. His mother tried to keep him and his brothers from Kristoff, but he knew. He’d been introduced to it, and even her shelter didn’t keep him from knowing. She had little power over her older brother.

“Do you know anyone in the Bertucci family?” He gripped the knife harder.

Her brow furrowed; her lips trembled. “I don’t know!” She turned her face up to the ceiling, dragging in shallow breaths. “I know the name. I’ve heard it before, but I don’t remember from where.”

She could easily have seen it in the papers, on the news. Bertucci had too much influence with the law to need to hide anymore.

“Think, Melinda. Do you know anyone related to Bertucci, did your grandfather bring home any of his associates?” Erik pressed harder.

“I don’t remember. I don’t think so.” She blinked, sending fat tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping onto her exposed breasts.

The knife clanked onto the cement flooring. Erik stepped up to Melinda, the heat of her body washing over him. He captured her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Bertucci wants you. Why?” He turned her face to the right then the left, as though he were inspecting every inch of her face for a resemblance. No, if she was related, he wouldn’t have come with a checkbook; he would have come with guns.

“I really don’t know,” she whispered—the sound more ragged than before. Her eyes locked with his. “I’m sorry for what I said. I’m just so scared.” Her body trembled.

“I know,” he said softly, bringing his mouth to hers.

He shouldn’t kiss her. She wasn’t his, and it wasn’t a moment of passion, a moment of reverence shared between two lovers. Yet, once his lips brushed hers, he couldn’t stop himself.

He pressed his body against hers, taking the kiss deeper and sweeping his tongue past her lips. Emotion rolled through him when her tongue touched his. She wasn’t fighting him; she wasn’t trying to kick him away.

Greedy, he slipped his hands from her face and down her shoulders. His fingertips traced her shoulders, eliciting another tremor, a soft moan from her lips.

He broke the kiss, stung by the passion evolving too quickly from their touch. She blinked up at him; shock flittered across her expression.

“You were good and answered my questions.” He ran his hands down her chest, over her breasts, softly kneading them. “No more tears.” He wiped the stains from her cheeks with his thumb. “The things that happened down here. They will never happen to you.” He didn’t speak the words to make her feel better; he said them to solidify his decision

She tensed beneath his touch. “How do you know?”

He dragged in a long breath, taking in her scent. “I won’t allow it,” he promised. “Now, take your reward like a good girl. Spread your legs.”

Chapter 9

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