Page 4 of Bleeding Blackheart

“Let me go!” She kicks and screams over and over, and I slap her bare ass, trying to get her to quiet down, which makes her scream louder.

“I’m not letting you go until I get paid.”

She starts to sob on me when I get back to the truck. “He won’t pay you. I swear.”

I have no reason to believe her, but I have this terrible feeling that she’s right. Maybe her father is setting me up, and as soon as he gets her body, he’ll disappear. He has the means to doso.

I open my truck door and toss her in, ignoring her yelp when I do. She cries harder while the wound from her head starts to make a mess of my seats. “Just give me until Monday. I’ll get you your money. As long as you promise you won’t let him find me.”

If I don’t do this job, Mr. Barnes is going to come after me. I complete my jobs on or before their due dates, or it’s my ass.

But with a hundred grand, it won’t matter. I can go somewhere he’ll never find me.

Montana’s body starts to droop from her fatigue, hunger, dehydration, and blood loss. A hospital would do her good. But I’m not taking her to one.

Her eyelids flutter, and she bites her bruised bottom lip. “Please. Help me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I crank up my truck and head back down the dirt path back to the main road, giving my new prisoner one last glance before she passes out. “Alright. You’ve got a deal.”

3

Montana

Iopen my eyes, and my nostrils are overwhelmed by the smell of stagnant water and mildew. I don’t know where I am. The last thing I remember is a man tossing me into his truck, making my bound wrists ache behind my back.

I try to move my arms, but I’m chained to a bed. My ankles are shackled too.

He locked me here. That crazy fucking asshole. He tried to shoot me. He was going to shoot me in my head with his shotgun. My eyes burn with tears at the horror of my circumstances, but I bat them away, trying to take in my surroundings.

I knew my father hated me but to put a hit out on me? I’m a little surprised. But I have no reason to be. I betrayed him, just like my mother did, and he killed the love of his life. Why would he bother to spare me for the same transgression?

Though this is the first time my father’s done this to me, it wasn’t hard to figure out. When that man found me in the woods, I thought he might be a random passerby who could help me. But his lecherous gaze made me feel like he was going to rape me and leave me for dead. Then he said my name, and I knew he was sent by my father. I thought he was there to capture me. And then I found out he was there to kill me.

I really am alone in this world.

My arm stings, and I look at it to see I have a needle in me. I’m hooked up to an IV drip of God knows what. Probably my captor’s piss or spit. My entire body aches, and I’m in more pain than I’ve ever been in before.

The last position I need to be in right now is on my ass, but I can’t move. My father has spanked me every single day that I’ve been in his care, and my last whipping was two days ago with his custom designer leather belt. I’d almost forgotten about the welts when my mystery man smacked my ass with his bare hand just as hard as my dad would.

I need a lot of things, but my priorities are a hot shower, a meal, and painkillers.

The air is muggy and hot, and natural light pours through the wood paneling that surrounds me. I’m outside somewhere. I have to get out and get moving. Ithought I’d made an honest deal, but it looks like I’ve been screwed.

I yank at my restraints, trying not to rip the IV out just yet. There’s commotion outside, and then the doors open.

“You’re finally awake. Took you long enough.” My captor stands in front of me wearing a fitted pair of blue jeans with a black tank top and black leather cowboy boots. He wears the same beige hat he was wearing when he found me.

He’s big and strong. Has to be over six feet. Extremely muscular. Like he chops wood all day long and thrives off of raw meat and black market breast milk. His shotgun is still in his right hand, and his piercing blue eyes remind me of my father. The man I hate most in this entire world.

Those blue eyes trail over me suspiciously, and I look down at myself, seeing I’m still naked and filthy. My jaw tenses, and when my face moves, I feel something on my head. He must’ve bandaged me. But he didn’t bother to give me a fucking shirt.

“What do you want from me?” I bark at him, ignoring the chill I get in my bones. The man is terrifying. He’s got shoulder-length straight brown hair that curls at the ends, and he has a generous brown beard and a matching mustache. If he weren’t so menacing, I might find him attractive, but he gives me the fuckingcreeps.

He approaches me slowly and makes his way over to my IV. “I want the money you promised me, Montana. Money for your freedom.”

I watch him while he does something to the fluids and removes the needle from me gently before covering it with supplies from his pocket. “You won’t get a damn penny if you don’t get your hands off me.”

His blue eyes widen, and he grips me by my throat, causing me to spit and choke. “Listen here, missy. The only thing between the bullet in my gun and your head is my greed. But I’ll have you know, I have a temper. So I suggest you shape the fuck up if you don’t want your brain matter splattered all over this room.”

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