Page 49 of Jagger
Lawson laughs like he’s just heard the funniest joke, then responds, “Ten grand.”
Wolfe shrugs. “No restraints.”
“Ten grand?”
“Eight.”
It’s like they’re haggling over the price of potatoes. I do nothing but stare at the floor.
What can I do?
“Fine.” The men shake hands, and I try to detach myself from the moment. I stare at the floor until I see shapes in the darkness, my eyes throbbing from the sharp contrast of darkness and harsh brightness.
Lawson removes my restraints, taking no care as he does. The collar claws at my skin, and I wince, but Lawson merely grins. I twist my neck around before Lawson shoves me forward, his hand gripping the back of my neck to keep me upright.
“I’ll take her. Which room?” Wolfe asks, reaching for my wrist. He grips it but not too tightly, pulling me toward him.
Lawson tells him a room number, and Wolfe nods, finally turning to me.
“Move. If you try to run, I’ll kill you. Nod if you understand.”
It takes everything to bob my head up and down, but I manage. I move forward, willing my ankles to support the weight of my body as I wrap my arms around myself, trying desperately to hide myself from view. Not that it matters—Wolfe has seen everything, and so has every other man here.
I lower my gaze when I see a pristine white hallway with a thick red carpet, my feet sinking into the deep plush carpet as I walk forward. I pass bright red doors with gold numbers embossed on them, and Wolfe mutters a number from behind me.
I swallow and almost choke; my throat is so dry. But I soon see it, and I stop hesitantly outside.
“Go in.” Wolfe gazes at me, his eyes swirling with darkness.
What is he going to do to me in there?
I need to detach. I need to imagine floating out of this house into the sky. I’ll leave this body behind, and all of this will be a distant memory.
I stumble into the room, the soft red light and black silk sheets greeting me as I shake involuntarily. No matter how much I try to prepare for this, it doesn’t ever get easier.
The door slams behind me, and before I can do anything, a hand wraps around my mouth, hot breath on my ear.
“Shh, baby. It’s me. It’s okay. Don’t scream.”
I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to. I can barely speak. Then I realize that the person whispering in my ear is none other than Jagger Knox, and he sounds so fucking concerned.
How dare he?!
Hot tears spill from my eyes as I realize he’s probably in cahoots with Wolfe. They’ve probably split the fucking bill, and they’re going to share me. It’s more than I can handle. I slumpin Jagger’s arms, the fight leaving me. I can’t fight two of them—there’s no guarantee I’ll survive.
And I need to survive, don’t I? Or do I? If this will be my existence, why do I want it?
“Put this on,” Jagger whispers, lifting my arms in the darkness. His touch is soft and gentle but hurried with an urgency I find disturbing. What is he doing? Dressing me?
This doesn’t make any fucking sense.
“We’ve got her,” Wolfe rasps, and as thick fabric slides over my sore face, I see the familiar light from a phone highlighting his face. Whatever Jagger has put on me is so silky soft I want to cry. It smells of him, though, making me want to claw it off. But I’d wear Lawson’s skin if it meant mine was covered up.
“Feet in.” Jagger crouches before me, guiding my legs into what feels like jogging bottoms.
This is surreal.
“What…” I whisper as Wolfe starts counting down from twenty.
