Page 80 of Wicked

He steps over Shephard and takes me back to the spotlight, dragging me by my hair.

“You’re as wicked as they come, Harper. Tempting me with hair dark as night.Eyes as blue as the ocean waves.Wicked, your coy smile.Your teasing.You’re as wicked as they come, and I will crush your soul until you squeal your come.”

My knees slide along the filthy carpet. Something wet and gooey clings to my skin. Revulsion wracks my body, my imagination running wild over what it could be. He pushes me down. I land on my side. He gets down on his haunches, shielding me from the force of the spotlight. Sam studies me beneath eyes hooded, and I stare back.

With his dark hair cut close to his skull, the coarse stubble on his face, and the intensity of his eyes, as well as his tall and muscular build, there’s no denying Samuel Taylor is a good-looking guy.

Or that he’s related to Shephard. Same sharp facial bone structure. Identical glacier-blue eyes. Prominent nose. Wide mouth.

But the hardness in his gaze when he looks at me, really looks at me with eyes wide open rather than hooded, speaks of an unspeakable hell on earth during his time in prison. He confirms my suspicions with his next words.

“You sent your dad after me, didn’t you? Demanded he and his men give me a lesson in what real pain feels like. Do to me what I did to you? Except they did more than penetrate my mouth.”

My stomach roiling, I shut my eyes. He yanks on my hair, forcing me to open them. To see him. To acknowledge his pain and his humiliation of being violated in a way he never did to me.

“I did no such thing,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. “I put in a request that my dad or you be moved to a different prison. My father . . . He is his own man, Sam. I could never demand he do something different when he’s made up his mind.”

“Otherwise, you would’ve demanded he let your mother go. Is that it, Harper?”

Sam and I spent a lot of time speaking of our parents and their messed-up lives.

“Yes.”

Had I not been staring so hard at his face, I would have missed the fleeting softening of his expression before he remembered why we’re in this shithole with me half-naked and bound and his brother unconscious on the floor.

Soon, he’ll have me on my knees and a gun pointed at my temple as he and his friends take turns violating my mouth. Shephard trained me to fight using my hands. Trained me to run away from danger as fast and for as long as I can until I’m safe.

What I’m not prepared for is to be half-naked, bound . . . helpless. Yet, there’s fight in me. I need to get back to Ryker. To tell him the truth. That I would never cheat on him. Not after knowing what he went through with the girl who broke his heart, his high school sweetheart who fell in love with an older guy.

I won’t let Ryker believe history is repeating itself. Yes, I care for Shephard, can say I love him. But the love I feel for Ryker is different. He says I’m different. That he wants my different. I’m ready. Ready to be that person for him.

To do that, I need to let go of the past. Everything about me with Ryker circles back to my messed-up past, and I’m tired of it.

“Aren’t you tired of all this?” My chin tips up a notch. Slices the air as I shake my head. “You did the time, Sam. Give our past a rest. Start your life over again.”

Please.

“Please, Sam.”

He’s quiet. The quiet before the storm. A growl rumbles from him. He stands, and grabbing me by the shoulders, he pushes me onto my hands and knees. Not like this. Oh, God, not like this.

“You are mine, Harper. Every piece and part of you. Don’t you understand? We finish this. We close the circle that is you, me, and my fucking traitorous brother.”

“He didn’t know. Not at first. Please. Let him go. He sacrificed enough, protecting me over the years.”

Protecting me from Sam. From my inner demons. Sam laughs, and the sound is full of bitterness.

“Do you know why I spared your father’s life for five long years only to take it away with the snap of my fingers five weeks ago?”

I don’t say a word. Don’t acknowledge what I suspected—Shephard going home again was the catalyst for my father’s murder. Sam will tell me anyway. He enjoys having the upper hand on his ex-cop, ex-special forces older brother.

Shadows move across the windows. It could be the leaves fluttering in the wind. Or something entirely different. I refocus on what Sam is saying, but in the back of my mind, I prep for a rescue.

“Shephard paid me a visit. Said he was close to proposing to you. He made the trip to make a deal. Leave you alone, forget revenge, and he’ll hand over everything. His life’s savings worth millions. The gym. What a fucking idiot.”

He laughs again.

“Then he had the nerve to stab that invisible knife deeper in my gut. Confessed the two of you went and got a marriage license to celebrate my being locked up. Said it was your idea. I had enough after that.”

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