Page 95 of Promise Me Forever

“You put Amelia in danger,” I say quietly, close enough that I can see the whites of his eyes. “Your greed put Amelia in danger. Your arrogance left her there for over a day. You are nothing but scum.”

He takes a step back from me and looks as though he’s going to bolt for the door. He’s not quick enough, and my left jab lands perfectly in the center of his smug face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

It’s the fucking least he deserves. I might yet kill him. Then I might kill the men who took her. Maybe I’ll even kill the guy who owns her apartment for not making it safe enough. And there’s a good chance I’ll kill anyone who goes anywhere near her.

But first, I’m going to get her back.

Chapter

Fifty

DRAKE

It plays out exactly as Shane Ryan predicted: Boyle is only interested in the money. He gives us a time and place to leave the cash, and in return, Chad gets a location. These guys aren’t criminal masterminds, and their entire plan is full of holes. If I wanted to take them down there and then, I could have.

But that can wait. Amelia comes first.

The address they’ve given us is an abandoned repair shop on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen. Constantine drives us there, and I feel the tension build as we make our way through the dimly lit building. It smells of piss and old motor oil, and I can hear rats scurrying around in the darkness. I can’t stand the thought of her being trapped, alone and scared, and my fists clench so tight that my nails slice into my palms.

What if she’s not here? What if something goes wrong? If anything has happened to her…

I shut down that train of thought and cast my flashlight around the room. The light flickers over piles of rotting newspapers, a heap of tires, and I think I can hear something that isn’t a rat. I stand still and listen more closely. Yes! It’s a mumbled voice, and it’s coming from the next room. I kick thedoor open and spot her in one dark corner. As the light hits her, she closes her eyes against the glare. Thank fucking Christ, it’s Amelia. She’s here. She’s alive.

Chad and I race forward and drop to our knees beside her. My eyes scan her for injury as I tear the gag from her mouth. She has some bruising on her face, but she’s in one piece. She’s sitting in an old office chair, and I growl when I see she’s been tied to it with thick ropes. Our ropes. They must have taken the Shibari gear from her apartment. It was only ever intended to bring pleasure and comfort, not to abuse her. Her ankles and wrists are bound to the sides, and bile surges up into my mouth at the sight of broken skin where she’s struggled against the hemp. Blistering rage blurs my vision, narrowing my focus until all I see is her. My girl. My everything. Bound and beaten.

“Mimi, honey.” Chad’s cloying, saccharine voice drags me back into focus. He’s pulling on the knotted ropes but only making it worse. Amelia shivers, her eyes darting around the room like she’s waiting for her kidnappers to return. She hasn’t said a single word, and I realize she’s terrified, hurt, probably dehydrated. My fury momentarily paralyzes me, and I listen to Chad say, “It’s okay, angel face. I’ve got you now.” Like he was any fucking use in this whole shitshow.

I shove my anger aside. That’s not what she needs. Finally able to move again, I step up and pull out the knife that I brought in case of trouble. I could untie those knots eventually, but I want to get her free quickly. As I slice through the ropes, I feel sick at the thought of her being violated like this. I want to find the men who did it and carve them into tiny fucking pieces. She rubs at her wrists, still eerily silent as I do the same at her ankles. Chad strokes her hair and talks to her like she’s a fucking child, and I decide I’d like to carve him into tiny pieces as well.

When she’s completely free, she sucks in a deep heaving breath that makes her whole body shudder. Her fingers grip thesides of the chair, and her eyes are fixed on the door. “Have they really left?”

Chad answers before I can. “They’re really gone, angel face.”

Still crouched on the floor before her, I fight my anger along with the desire to pick her up, crush her to my chest, and never let her go again. She turns her attention to Chad and blinks. “Th-thank you, Chad,” she whispers.

He preens at her response, and I ponder cutting off his dick and shoving it down his throat, but then she turns to me, her hazel eyes huge and shining. I meet her gaze, and as we lock eyes, the control she was holding onto so tightly crumbles.Shecrumbles. I hold out my arms, and she falls into them, tears running down her face, heavy sobs racking her body.

“Drake!” She chokes out my name, and I press my lips against her hair as I stand, scooping her up with me and holding her close.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you now.”

She throws her arms around me, burying her face against my chest and curling her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck. She’s trembling and frail, and I tighten my grip on her. “I was so scared. But I knew you’d come for me.”

My heart cracks in two, but I need to get her out of this hellhole. I lift her up into my arms, cradling her to me like she’s a little girl, and put one foot in front of another in the direction of the exit. She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder, her whole body sagging with relief as she finally feels safe.

Chad scowls at me like I just stole his woman, the prick. I never stole her. He was stupid enough to let her go, and she’s been mine since the day I met her. She’ll always be mine.

I glare back at him, and his hand goes up to the black eye I gave him earlier. I nod, putting a warning into my fierce gaze: come near her again, I’ll kill you.

Amelia sniffs. “Will you stay with me?”

I hold her tighter, pressing my lips against her temple. “Yeah, baby. I’ll stay with you forever.”

Amelia didn’t wantto go back to her apartment, which was totally understandable after those sick fucks lay in wait for her there. I had no intention of letting her out of my sight anyway and had already told Constantine to take us back to my place. He frowned when he saw the state of her and laid a gentle hand against her cheek. “You okay, Miss Ryder?” he asked quietly.

“Better now, Constantine,” she said, managing a weak smile. We left Chad there in Hell’s Kitchen, and he was pissed about it. Like he expected a fucking ride home.

It doesn’t take us long to get back to the penthouse, and I run her a bath as she sits on the toilet seat, sipping from a bottle of water and watching me. She’s dirty and tired and battered, but she insists she doesn’t need a doctor. I checked her over as best I could in the car, and apart from bruises and scrapes, she seems to be okay. At least physically—the trauma might take longer to heal, and I intend to be here every step of the way.

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