Page 46 of Driven by Desire

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Riley immediately got over her revelation and decided how best to use it to her advantage. She would tell him exactly how she felt about him before he could beat her or do whatever evil thing he planned on doing to get Shank’s name out of her. He hadn’t pushed for a declaration out of her since admitting his feelings in her garage. Her dark, sinister man had simply waited and watched, giving her time to come to her own conclusion. He wasn’t going to let her go. Presumably he had all the time in the world, anyway.

And if that didn't work, she would distract him with mind blowing sex until he forgot what he wanted from her. And if that didn’t work, she would make up a name and send him on a wild goose chase. Unfortunately, as an avid fan of The Simpsons, the only fake names she could come up with on the spot were Max Powers and Hooter McBoob. Somehow, she didn't think those names would throw him off the trail for long.

She showered, washed her hair, blow dried it straight and pulled it up into her customary ponytail. Then she pulled on a pair of worn sweat pants and a blue tank top without a bra. There was no one in the house anyway to see her boobs bouncing around. Once Soloman got home, she would use them to distract him from his interrogation.

Humming the theme song to The Simpsons, because of course that was in her head now, she jogged up the stairs and into the kitchen where she realized she was on her own for breakfast. Damn. No kitchen staff on weekends. Soloman usually cooked bacon and orange juice for her on weekends, but he was busy. She frowned. She had been expressly forbidden from cooking.

What should she do? She was pretty sure he didn't intend for her to starve, and bacon was essential to life. Settling on the floor, she set about breaking into the locks Soloman had jokingly installed on the cupboards to keep her out. With a glance over her shoulder at the camera facing the kitchen, she sighed. She hadn’t wanted to give away her mad breaking and entering skills so soon, but a girl needed her protein if she was going to avoid some heavy-handed discipline later.

The lock fell apart in her hands and with a happy grin, she reached into the cupboard for the pan she would need. She stood and set it on the stove, turned the stove on to heat and twirled toward the fridge, now singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” to herself. She knew she was in way too good of a mood for the black devilry Soloman had waken her to, but it wasn't every day a girl found out she was in love for the first time.

“Is this the real life, or this just fantasy…” she sang, reaching into the fridge after making short work of the shiny new lock. “I’m just a poor boy… easy come, easy go…” Okay she didn’t know all the words. “Mama, I just killed a man. Put a gun against his head…”

She was about to take a gulp of orange juice straight out of the container when a loud boom rocked the house. Riley jumped back into the still open fridge door with a scream of startled surprise and dropped the container. Orange juice splashed over her bare feet and onto the marble floor. Riley brought her hands up to cover her ringing ears and crouched between the fridge and the island, clutching her aching head. What the fuck was that?

It took her a few precious seconds to understand that the sound definitely wasn’t natural and that it couldn’t possibly be anything good. She also realized that the ringing in her ears was the house phone. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and stood, reaching for the phone. She pressed the talk button and put it against the side of her head.

A voice instantly roared in her ears. “Ms. Bancroft, go to the safe room, now! We’re under attack. Arm yourself and get underground into the safe room.”

She didn’t recognize the voice, but assumed it was one of Soloman’s security guards. He kept himself aloof from his employees except for Roman. Though she suggested they get to know his security better, Soloman had refused, not wanting her anywhere near his men. Riley disagreed, believing the better their people knew their employers the more they would want to protect them. But she also thought she would have more time to change his mind. Apparently, she was wrong.

A sob of fear escaped her throat as she clutched the phone tighter. “Th-there’s been an explosion. I’m in the kitchen. I-I don’t know if I can get to the safe room,” she told him, glancing around frantically.

“Okay, change of plans. Go out the back door,” he told her. "I'll come get you. As far as I can tell there’s only one guy. He’s taken out half the team though. He’s one crazy motherfucker. Drove straight through the gates, tossing explosives and ignoring our bullets like they bounce right off him.”

Riley froze as her fingers wrapped around a butcher knife. There was only one motherfucker crazy enough to penetrate Soloman’s private estate alone. He had come to collect what he thought was owed him. She wrenched the knife out of the block and whirled around as he stalked into the kitchen, his wild eyes searching for her. A grin stretched his thin lips, pleasure suffusing his tattooed face when he caught sight of her facing him with a weapon.

“Ah, angel baby, it don't gotta be that way between us, you know,” he growled, his eyes roving over her, lingering on her braless chest. She tried to edge toward the back door, but seeing her intent, he lunged in that direction.

She cried out and tried running back around the other way, but he was faster. Catching her around the waist, he swung her around and gripped her wrist, squeezing brutally until she dropped the knife. Fuck! She should have kept facing him. Although Shank was stupid enough to run at her, blade or not. She was no good at fighting anyway. She was a car person through and through. She hated weapons. The only fight she ever won was bloodying Duke Badger’s nose in 6th grade when he flipped Katie’s skirt.

Shank pulled her back into his erection and pressed his gun hand into her stomach, breathing in her clean, feminine scent as though he couldn't believe he finally had her. The woman he’d loved and obsessed over for years. The woman who’d held herself just out of his reach. His hands tightened around her until she whimpered in pain, the butt of his gun bruising her hip. She promised him payment. Now she would pay.

He dragged her backwards around the counter toward the kitchen entrance. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the security guard coming up to the back door, preparing to enter. Shank reached for his belt, yanking out what looked like a grenade. He pulled the pin. Riley flinched against him, trying to get away from the deadly weapon clutched in his fist. Psychotic fucking man!

“Watch out!” she screamed toward the back door as it was wrenched open. Luckily the guard reacted instantly, throwing himself to the side as Shank threw the grenade.

Shank hurled her backwards out of the kitchen and followed her through as debris exploded throughout the kitchen. She landed hard on her hands and knees. He was laughing maniacally at the destruction, as though it delighted him to see the gorgeous kitchen go up. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her off the floor and carried her straight through the front door with an arm around her middle.

Riley was too shocked to put up much of a fight as they approached his classic Charger. She was not too shocked to flinch at the damage the front fender had sustained when he went through the gate. Okay, the bastard deserved to die for that alone. The next time she saw Soloman she was singing like a canary. He opened the trunk, curved a long arm under her legs and leaned down to place a stinging kiss on her plush mouth.

She gasped and surged up against him, punching his chest and shoulders, but he stuffed her easily in the trunk. “Sorry, angel,” he said with a grin just before slamming the lid down on her panicked screams.

Riley braced herself in the cramped space as Shank peeled away from the front of the house and raced up the long driveway. Loud bangs erupted when they approached what she assumed must be the ruined gates. Something pinged off the metal frame of the car. She screamed and flinched further back into the darkness of the trunk, curling in a ball, terrified that she might get shot through the metal. Clearly security had no idea she was in the vehicle.

They roared up the road as fast as Shank’s souped-up engine could go. The engine Riley had upgraded for him. She knew exactly how fast his fucking car could go. She also knew these old trunks didn’t have a release. She was super fucked. She tried to breath evenly in the hot space as she slid her fingers around searching for anything that might help. Shank was definitely stupid enough to leave a weapon in there with her. He would consider them trading bullets as foreplay.

The only things she found was some kind of fluffy, lacy material that she shoved aside after deeming it useless, and several bottles of water. After determining that the bottles were sealed she twisted the top off one and took several calming sips. The trunk was so hot, she was already beginning to sweat. She could feel the car begin to slow and knew they were now far enough away from the house that Shank was trying not to draw unwanted cop attention. She curled on her side and clutched the water bottle to her chest. Maybe when they stopped she could momentarily blind him with the contents, kick him in the nads and scream bloody murder.

That was assuming they didn’t go straight to his clubhouse. Those fuckers were nearly as psycho as he was. They wouldn’t help her. In fact, they might insist on a piece of the action. She shivered and curled tighter into herself, hoping that wasn’t the case. She just needed to trust that Soloman would get to her quickly and that this day would end happily. With bacon and declarations of love.

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