Page 73 of Mastered By Desire

I shake my head. Unbelievable. “How much is it?”

“It was twenty grand.”

“Twenty grand,” I repeat. That’s a lot of fucking money. Fuck Mick and all the shit he put me through, the shit he continues to put me through even though he’s dead. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I’ll pay you. I have a little money, not a lot, but if you let me go, I’ll get the rest.”

No idea how. But I’ll figure it out.

“Itwastwenty grand.” Randy shakes his head. “But then I remembered you. Your sweet little body, those sexy titties. The debt just increased.”

I’ll pay it. I’ll give them whatever they want, even if it takes years. It’s only money, and I want to live. “How much?”

He leers at my chest. “Fifty thousand.”

Anger fills my veins with heat. He’s jacking the price up because he has me in a bind.

“I don’t have that much money,” I say, “but I’ll find a way to get it.”

“We waited long enough for Mick. No more waiting. Besides, he assured us that in the event of non-payment, you would make yourself available.”

He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying. I fight the urge to cover my chest with my arms. I don’t want to look weak, or small. Gage said my body is powerful.

I don’t feel very powerful in this moment.

Randy wanted this all along. That’s why they grabbed me. Why he’s increasing the money owed.

“Mick lied to you,” I say in a clear voice. “He lied to me. Paying his debt with sex will never be okay with me.”

“I’d rather have you willing. I’ll give you a couple of hours to think it over. Nobody will find you here. We got time. Anticipation is half the fun.” Randy gives me an ominous smile as he speaks, lip curling, eyes full of menace. He switches his gaze to one of the men. “Take her into the bathroom. Tie her up.”

I scream as the big bearded guy grabs my arm and starts dragging me to the bathroom. He slaps me again, cutting off my scream.

“Gag her,” Randy says.

The blond guy leaves and returns with some duct tape. He places it over my mouth. I plead with him with my eyes.Don’t do this, don’t do this.He is completely unaffected.

My arms are yanked behind me, my wrists wrapped with the tape. They shove me so I’m sitting down against the counter beneath the sink. The cold of the tile floor seeps through my jeans.

Eyeing me, Randy saunters into the bathroom and leans down. His face is so close to mine, I can see individual pores.

“Youwillgive in.” He slams the butt of his gun on the counter next to my head.

I shriek through the duct tape as the counter cracks. Shards of whatever it is—granite? Some kind of tile?—fall to the floor.

My heart thuds loud in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, I won’t be here. I’ll be in Dmitri’s bed, waking up and starting the last twenty-four hours over again.

Randy’s laughter fades as he leaves the room.

I wait a long, long moment before opening my eyes.

The counter next to my head is completely broken, with chunks on the floor next to me.

The men are still here, but they aren’t in the bathroom. They’re lounging in the bedroom, the TV blaring with sports announcers analyzing the latest big game.

They aren’t watching me.

I pick up one of the counter shards and tuck it between my bound wrists.

If Randy tries to do anything to me, he’s going to feel at least a little pain.

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