Page 5 of Filthiest Of Them All

“You know why you’re here.” His tone is hard and unyielding.

“Why drug me and not just force me to tell you on the plane?” I snarl as my anger begins to simmer inside me.

“Because you aren’t the type to respond to pain. Unlike most people, you seem like you can take a fuck load of hurt and still keep your mouth shut.” His assessment of me is astounding.

“Did you learn that from stalking me?” I sass.

“If you’re looking for me to feel some type of guilt for the events that led us to this moment, then don’t hold your fucking breath.” I bristle at the bastard.

“You’re a real prick, aren’t you?”

“You know, I’ve killed people for a lot less so if I was you, I would watch that vulgar fucking mouth of yours.”

“You going to kill me, Alex?” I press. His nostrils flare and it’s clear he’s battling within himself to control his anger. I do nothing to try and help ease his torment because fuck him, he kidnapped me. “How the fuck did you get me off the plane unconscious with no one noticing?” I blurt out.

He ignores my first question. “When you have the right amount of money, anyone can be bought.” I gape up at him, utterly speechless.

“You can’t just drug women and fucking kidnap them!” I shout and instantly regret it when my head begins to pound again. I grind my teeth and breathe through the wave of pressure.

“Take the pills, it will help.” He almost sounds sincere.

“Fuck off, Alex,” I exclaim as I continue to ride the wave of pain.

“Suit yourself. Shower is through there, clothes are on the counter. Welcome to your new home, Miss Lawson.” The smug bastard strides out of the room without another word or even a backward glance. When he closes the door behind himself, I wait to hear the sound of a lock engaging. I keep waiting but the sound never comes. All I hear is the sound of his retreating footsteps. I know without a doubt this is a trap of some kind. Given the state I’m in, I decide to take him up on the offer of a shower and pray that the water helps wash away some of the after effects of whatever drugs he used on me.

I’ll kill him for drugging me!

Have you ever tried standing under the shower head and keeping your eyes open? I don’t fucking recommend it, that shit is harder than I would like to admit. But there was no fucking way I was going to close my eyes for even a second while I’m standing here naked. I did a quick sweep of the bathroom and tried to spot any cameras. I know that these days they can be the size of a pin but a part of me is hoping Alexander isn’t some creep and watching me shower while stroking one out.

The clothes he left out for me are huge!

I’m not exaggerating! You know how girls wear their boyfriends clothes and they look cute in the oversized shirt? Not me. I look like one of Snow White's dwarfs in Shrek's clothes. This is so not fucking hot. I’ve rolled the sweats’ waistband so many times that I have a fucking camel toe and they still drag along the ground. The shirt, oh God, don’t even get me started on that. Then there is the hoodie he left that swallows my entire body the way I wish I could swallow a dick whole.

I growl in frustration, then storm out of there with a billow of steam following me out. I don’t have a brush so the best my hair is getting is a finger comb. Do I feel better after a shower? Yes, I do, but that isn’t the point. I had bags with me, could he not have stolen those as well like he fucking stole me? Like if you want to hold me hostage he could have at least had the decency to make me comfortable.

“That fucker is so going to regret this,” I bite out as I grip the door handle and turn it. To my surprise it is actually unlocked. I slowly pull it open and stick my head out. I look both ways and frown, there are no guards standing outside. I quietly slip out of the room and plaster my back against the wall. I feel like a knock off of Rambo right now as I slide against the wall, trying to find the fucking exit.

Including the bedroom I just escaped from, there are four rooms. The doors are open so I take a quick look inside. All of them are clearly lived in if the mess is anything to go by. The room I was just in was clean and bare, unlike the others. I approach the end of the hallway and freeze at the sound of voices.

“We had a tail, Alex,” a guy says.

“I know. Thomas sending those fucking heads to Vivian brought heat on us.” Alexander sounds troubled and that brings a smile to my face.

“They think it was you, don’t they?” another guy asks.

“Yeah. It didn’t help that I was released around the same time. She won’t believe us, she’ll want to see the remains to prove her point but it’s a bit fucking hard when Vivian had them all cremated.” They’re talking about the severed heads that were sent to Vivian by my sperm donor, but who the hell is the woman they are referring to?

“What’s our next move?” This guy’s voice is deep and holds a dark edge to it.

“Well, that depends on our guest, why don’t you ask her?” I still, my breaths turning shallow. “Why don’t you come join us instead of hiding, Miss Lawson?” My brows leap to my hairline. I dart my gaze back toward the way I came and debate if I should make a run for it or face these assholes head on. The decision is made for me when that snarky bastard speaks again. “We don’t have all night.” I grit my teeth, square my shoulders and hold my head high as I round the corner. I spot Alexander immediately, leaning against the wall and staring directly at me, the intense look in those green eyes has my skin breaking out in gooseflesh.

I tear my gaze from his, not wanting to try and decipher what that look is about and scan the living room. Two of the guys I recall from the plane sit on a leather sofa, one is looking directly at me while the other sits there with a laptop on his knees and his eyes glued to the screen. Another guy from the plane is leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest. I nearly shriek when someone brushes up against me. I jump away from him gasping in shock. He smiles softly and there is something about his soft brown eyes that has my anxiety easing.

“I’m Vatican.” His voice is deep and husky, his crooked smile makes him seem youthful and easy going.

“Tate,” I rasp out. He nods, then holds out a bottle of water. I stare at it but don’t make a move to grab it even though my mind is screaming at me to take the cold liquid that will soothe my throat.

“It’s sealed,” he offers. I purse my lips and tentatively take it from him. He doesn’t wait for athank youas he moves to join the others and plops down onto the vacant loveseat. I uncap the water and ignore them as I guzzle it down greedily. I nearly drain the entire bottle in one go, then sigh in contentment as I recap it and face Alexander again.

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