Page 25 of Kept

The brown-haired man, Ryder, raises his eyebrows. “You live here? In a warehouse?”

My eyes widen at this new information. “This is a warehouse?”

Not an apartment block, then. Both of them frown, exchanging glances. Tattooed guy steps back, keeping my wrist in his hand as he takes me in, his dark eyes moving down and landing on the iron gripping my ankle.

The growl that rolls out of him makes me flinch, and his fingers squeeze my wrist. Reassurance or threat, I don’t know. “Ryder.”

Ryder drops into a crouch, reaching out for my foot. “What’s this, princess?”

“Don’t touch it,” I snap, and aim a kick at him with my unshackled right foot for good measure. He staggers back with his hand against his nose. “Shit!”

Strong hands wrap around my arms again, and I struggle against the tattooed man’s grip. His voice echoes in my ear. “Stop. Moving.”

“Make. Me,” I hiss back, and I swear a low laugh escapes him before I’m turned. My face is pressed into the cold marble of the kitchen counter, my hands held behind my back. A firm leg presses between mine, pushing until I’m up on my tiptoes.

My breath catches in my throat on a strangled gasp.

I… can’t move.

“You were saying?” he taunts, and I close my eyes against the embarrassment.

“Let me go, please.”

“You’re awfully polite,” Ryder mutters from behind me. His voice sounds nasally, like he’s pinching his nose. “For a little savage with a wok and a strong right leg.”

A hand winds into my hair, tugging it just enough to make my back arch. Wincing, I yank away from his touch, my scalp still sore from earlier.

“What’s with all the hair?” the tattooed man murmurs into my ear.

I wriggle uselessly. “None of your business. What do you want?”

Both of them pause.

“Enzo,” Ryder murmurs, and now I have a name for the tattooed psycho who’s having far too much fun positioning me however the heck he wants. “We seem to have an unexpected development.”

“Is it the thing pressing against my leg?” I mutter irritably. “Because it’s definitely developing.”

I had a biology textbook once. I know exactly what that is. It had diagrams and everything.

There’s a moment of silence before a bellow of laughter rings out behind me, followed by a smacking sound.

“Oh,” Ryder says finally, his voice filled with amusement as he catches his breath. “I like you. Can we keep you?”

“Enough,” Enzo snaps before I can respond. “Call Maverick.”

“Um. Yeah, hard pass. He’ll tell us we fucked up, and we did.” Ryder’s face appears next to mine on the counter. “How do you know Ethan Moore, princess?”

I’ve never understood the expression about blood draining from the face, until now. Ryder watches me closely, a knowing glint in his eyes as I lick suddenly dry lips. “Never heard of him.”

A hand wraps around my throat, and I gag as it squeezes lightly. “I don’t like liars, little prey,” Enzo warns behind me.

“Hey, now,” Ryder says, without moving his eyes. “No need for that. Is there, sweetheart? Tell me – did Moore put that restraint on your ankle?”

My hesitation is answer enough, and Ryder and I watch each other silently, assessing the other.

Finally, I break the silence. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here,” I whisper. “Do you want the statues? There’s nothing else worth taking.”

It’s clearly not me, given the surprise on their faces when I popped up with my wok.

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