Page 97 of Crush (Deadly Hearts 1)

ChapterFifty

Ruby

I’m cold and my head aches like a cheap vodka hangover. I shiver, realizing that I’m not fully clothed. My eyes flutter open, the dank, darkish room, shedding little light onto my current whereabouts or predicament. My hands are tied behind my back, and looking down at myself, I can see in the dim light that I’m dressed in a very scant, black babydoll lingerie.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the creepy man says.

I look to where the voice is coming from but see no one until he flicks a lighter on and lights a couple of candles.

“Who the fuck are you?” I growl, shifting my position to keep him in my line of sight.

“No one you know, but your father knows me well.”

“Which one?” I snarl, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he means Rex, knowing what I now know about my bio dad.

“Don’t play coy,” the man chides me. “You know which one.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“No more questions,” he snaps at me, but makes an effort to control his temper. That makes me think he doesn’t want to hurt me. At least not in a rage. No, this guy strikes me as the precision type. It’s going to hurt and be very damaging. “But I want you to know so you can scream my name when you beg me to stop hurting you. You can call me Boomer. Everyone does.”

“Boomer,” I repeat. “Scott’s man?”

I’ve heard of him, but never had the pleasure. Thank fuck. This guy is creepy as all hell, and I really don’t fancy my chances.

“My employer would like to extend his thanks for getting rid of Jake. Now he can fill that hole and then yours when you inevitably give up and pray for death.”

“If you’re trying to scare me, you don’t,” I spit out.

He chuckles, amused by that. “I can assure you, I do…or I will, soon enough. You, my girl, are about to witness my indelible talents.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Get on with it?”

“All in good time,” he purrs. “First, I want you to stay very, very still. Don’t move, barely breathe. If I see movement, I will start with your little finger, breaking it slowly and painfully. Do I make myself clear?”

I give him what he wants, and I don’t move a single muscle.

“Very good,” he says and smiles genially, which just makes him look even creepier.

He drags a stool in front of me, about six feet away and he sits on it. I try my best not to make an eww face when he unzips his pants and pulls his dick out. He is flaccid and small. I take shallow breaths when he starts to tug on himself while looking at me.

Ugh. This is sick, but at least he isn’t touching me. It could be worse.

It’s over pretty quick. He climaxes with a soft groan, spurting his cum out onto the floor and then zipping himself back up. He stays sitting down.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you?”

I don’t move or speak.

“You can be at ease now,” he says, standing up. “Please rise and make your way over to the table.” He points into the corner. It’s too dark to see.

I struggle to my feet and walk slowly in the direction he pointed. My head swims. I felt okay when I was sitting down and still, now I want to barf while passing out. I gulp when I see an operating table with straps to restrain wrists and ankles. I need to get out of here, but panicking and trying to run won’t get me anywhere.

“Climb on,” he says encouragingly.

I do as he says. I’m not in any position not to right now. I slide my ass onto the table and wiggle backwards.

He comes around the back of me and cut the ties around my wrists. He rubs them gently and then guides me to lie back. I feel woozy and my head spins from being on my feet and staggering the few steps to the table. Whatever he hit me with in the car is still having an effect on me. I can’t shake it off, which means I can’t fight him. My arms and legs feel like lead. I close my eyes and don’t struggle when he restrains my arms and then my ankles.

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