Taken by Lies Page 21

  I’m in my own head on the drive over, trying to decide why I want her at the club.

  Because Surrender is where the truth will eventually come out—whether that’s today or a year from now. Eventually, she will learn the truth here.

  I pull up outside the back entrance to the club. No one knows of this entrance but me, and now Kai. Everyone else enters through the single entrance at the front.

  “Ready for this?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I’m guessing I will pass out in fear and you’ll have to carry me home again.”

  “Please don’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t. I won’t push you. If you need a break, just tell me or Langston or Zeke, and we will find a private room for you by yourself.”

  “No, push me. I need to be pushed to heal.”

  I lead her inside. Through the dark hallways that only she and I can see in. It’s nice not to have to touch her to lead her or turn on a light. I prefer the black.

  We walk to one of the main public rooms, and I find Langston prowling.

  Kai stalks in behind me, holding her head up and proud.

  “Katherine, would you like a drink?” I ask using her true name instead of the one people might recognize here as the dead coming back to life.

  “Sure,” she says.

  She doesn’t tell me what she wants to drink, but I decide something light like champagne that she hopefully won’t drink too quickly. It’s more for her to have something to hold and be more comfortable. I give Langston a look to watch her before I retrieve our drinks.

  I grab her champagne and me a whiskey. When I turn back around to give her her drink, I see Langston reaching his hand out to touch her.

  I drop the glasses and run to her. Her body is frozen in fear at the looming touch.

  I don’t know how I reach them just in time. I don’t know how to stop Langston except to tackle him to the ground, so that’s what I do.

  “What the hell?” Langston wrestles me, trying to push me off him.

  All eyes in the club are on us.

  “Sorry,” I say, before I throw a punch at his face. I need to send a clear signal no one touches Katherine. And even though I stopped Langston, I need everyone else in the club to keep their distance. So the punch was necessary.

  “No one hits on my girl. You hear me—Katherine is mine,” I yell, making it clear why I hit him, even though he’s my best friend, and what will happen if anyone else touches her.

  I stand up and wipe the sweat from my knuckles. I give Kai a look and walk out of the room. Turns out it wasn’t Kai who would need to go cool off in another room; I needed it.

  I leave her with Langston without explanation. She’s free to wander. But she won’t run or escape. As much as she wants freedom, I saw the look on her face when I punched Langston—thanks and relief. She’s come a long way, but she’s still terrified of the world. She won’t leave, because she feels safe with me, the monster she knows. That’s a mistake.

  25

  Kai

  I hate Enzo.

  I can say that with certainty now.

  Hate.

  I hate the contradictory feelings he stirs inside me.

  I hate that he is the only person who I can truly talk to.

  I hate how he makes me lust after his muscular body.

  I hate that he tries to heal me, never allowing me to stay broken.

  I hate that he protected me from a single touch by acting like a jealous lover.

  But most of all, I hate that no matter what he does, it will never be enough for me to forgive.

  My heart has blackened because of him. My soul tormented, and my body changed. I’m thankful that he spared my life, although the consequences he faced for that seem inconsequential. But I can never forgive him for selling me.

  It doesn’t seem Enzo does any of these things because he expects my forgiveness. More like it’s a meticulous plan that will somehow end in me out of his life again.

  Despite how I hate Enzo, my heart softens every time he does something to save or protect me. And he just saved a night or possibly weeks of pain by preventing Langston from touching me. And my stupid heart likes Enzo more than it should for protecting me from that pain.

  Enzo stormed off without a word to Langston or me. All eyes in the club are on us. It’s a strange feeling, after being alone for so many years. I’m not used to so many people in one room, especially when all the attention is on me. But I refuse to show weakness. Or hide the scars or marks on my body.

  I want to chase after Enzo and find out why he prevented Langston from touching me. And why he stormed off afterward. He brought me here to push me, to heal me faster. He thought that would happen sooner if he made me face my fears.

  “Are you okay?” I bend down to ask Langston, who is still lying on the floor in shock.

  Langston nods slowly, as he stares at me with large eyes. He stands up quickly, and I give him a wide berth, so he doesn’t touch me. Langston gives one look to the crowd, and the stares stop, the voices begin again, and the dancers continue as if the last few moments didn’t happen.

  “I’ll get you some ice for your face,” I say.

  “No, I can’t show weakness.”

  I study his eye; it doesn’t look too bad right now. But it will swell up and blacken my morning.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Why are you sorry? You weren’t the one who hit me. I just didn’t realize you and Enzo had gotten so serious so fast. Enzo isn’t exactly the dating type.”

  I snort. “We aren’t together.”

  Langston frowns as his eyes dart around the room at men who are most likely listening to our conversation. “Follow me.”

  He walks down a hallway to a locked door, buried in the depths of the club, but not as far as Enzo’s office. Langston unlocks the door and then steps inside. I follow while keeping my distance. I shut the door behind me.

  The room is small compared to Enzo’s office, but Langston’s office appears more for regular work than Enzo’s. Langston’s has a desk, laptop, papers, and a small seating area. But Langston doesn’t sit down. Instead, he walks over to a mini-fridge in the corner where there is a bar setup. He opens the freezer and pulls out a bag of peas, placing it over his eye.

  I try to hide my smile, but I can’t. “You a big fan of peas or does this happen often?”

  He walks over to the rolling chair behind his desk and slumps down, as he continues to hold the frozen peas to his face.

  “In my line of work, this happens often—although Enzo isn’t usually the one throwing the punches at me.” Langston pauses, studying me as if trying to understand who I am and what I’m doing in here.

  “Should I call you Katherine or Kai?”

  I shrug. “Ask Enzo.”

  My feet are aching from standing, and the only seats in the room are the small couches in the corner, not close enough to talk to Langston. He notices my stares and gets up from behind his desk; he collapses down on one of the couches in a lump of pain. His head is obviously throbbing. He wouldn’t crumble in such exhaustion from a simple punch if it didn’t have force behind it. I know the difference between a weak punch and one with the full weight of a body behind it.

  I walk to the other couch, but I’m not used to my heels and my feet are already twinging. I step, and the heel moves out from under me, causing me to stumble.

  Langston reaches his arm out to catch me. I see it the split second before I would crash into his hand. But I can’t let him touch me. I contort my body and fall away from his hand to the floor.

  We both stare openly at my reaction to his almost touch.

  “What is going on? Why don’t you like to be touched?”

  My eyes drift down to the now visible marks on my arms and chest, my clothes not hiding them this time. This time when I entered this club, I didn’t want to hide behind my clothes.

  “You know why. You saw me that day naked. You saw how br
oken my body was and how it continues to be. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I don’t like to be touched.”

  “No, I guess not. It still doesn’t explain who you are or what you are doing in Enzo’s life.”

  I settle myself on the floor and lean against the couch rather than sitting on it. The floor is more comfortable for me anyway.

  “If you figure out what I’m doing here, let me know.”

  Langston continues to study me with his one good eye. “Enzo and I have been friends a long time. We’ve both taken bullets for each other. Committed the worst sins together. Trust me; I will learn why you are here. So you might as well tell me now and save me the trouble.”

  I cross my arms as anger floods my eyes. “You want to know what I’m doing here! It started six years ago. Enzo was looking for someone by the name of Kai Miller. Me. He was sent by his father to kill me. Except when it came down to it, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t kill me. Instead, he had me kidnapped and sold. A few weeks ago, I was returned to Miami. I was pissed and went in search of Enzo. I wanted to know why. We played a game of truth or lies. I lost. Now I’m forced to live my life as his prisoner. That’s why I’m here, because I lost a stupid game. And I will never understand why.”

  Langston freezes as I tell my tale. I hope he has the answers. He will be able to tell me why, if he knows Enzo as well as he claims. Langston should know why Enzo’s father ordered him to kill me.

  Langston’s mouth eventually drops as he realizes the truth. He knows my answers.

  “Why? Why was I ordered to be killed?”

  A knock followed by a head poking through the door halts our conversation.

  “Langston, there has been a security breach,” a man says while entering Langston’s office. I don’t recognize him. I haven’t met him before.

  Langston stands, dropping the bag of peas on the coffee table as he starts walking to handle the issue.

  “Langston? Answer me?”

  He stops at the door and turns and faces me.

  “Please,” I beg.

  His lips thin as he stares like he’s seeing a ghost. “It’s not my truth to tell. I’m sorry.”

  And then he’s gone.

  I slump, my shoulders rounding over my chest.

  Now what?

  Enzo won’t tell me. Langston won’t answer me. But someone in this club knows my answers. I just have to find the man willing to answer me. I’m not going to wait here for the men to return. I’m going to get my answers.

  I force myself up onto wobbly legs. I really shouldn’t have worn these heels, but I knew after the last time I came here that I wanted to look my best. I wanted to fit in, instead of standing out.

  I make it to the hallway, but I have no idea where to wander. I know where Enzo will be. I remember the string of corridors that lead to his lair, but do I want to find him?

  I start walking, being drawn this way or that way, not thinking as I walk, just feeling and letting my body wander through the hallways. The hallways are mostly dark, and occasionally I’ll walk by a room that is lit up and noisy. I walk by the entrances quickly, not ready to be in the throws of large groups of people again. If I’m going to get my answers, I’m going to need to do it one on one.

  Slowly, I realize I am indeed headed toward Enzo’s office. I stop just outside the solid door to his office that is now closed. I consider knocking, but that doesn’t feel right.

  I grab the handle, just as I hear sounds behind the door.

  I pause my hand on the door as I listen, hoping to catch the end of a conversation Enzo is having. Hopefully, a discussion that will give me answers.

  But I don’t hear words.

  Moans escape through the cracks in the door. Then panting.

  Sounds I would only recognize in my dreams.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the tears in my eyes. I manage to keep them on the edge of my eyelashes.

  I shouldn’t be upset that Enzo is inside fucking a whore. He has every right. He’s not mine, and I don’t want him to be.

  I just don’t like that he gets to experience any amusement after what he did to me.

  My hand tightens again on the door handle. I should leave and find a man who might talk. I’m sure there are plenty of drunks around here that would be willing to spill Enzo’s secrets with the right persuasion. But I can’t. I’m too focused on what’s happening behind the door.

  I turn the handle slowly and crack the door open. My eyes focus in on the dark room and the shadows moving on the lavish couch. Enzo and his whore don’t notice me.

  Maybe Enzo does, but he doesn’t care that I’m watching.

  I don’t have to step inside to see, I can see just fine through the dark slit in the door.

  I see Enzo flip the woman over, spreading her legs wide, her ass in the air. He pushes his pants down and then sinks his cock inside her. He gathers her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head and pulls hard as he fucks her.

  He’s brutal with his thrusts, just as I would expect. He doesn’t kiss her or caress her in any way. He takes what he wants without considering how it makes her feel—like a whore.

  They both pant and moan as their naked, writhing bodies collide. I can hear their skin slapping together. His ass tightens as he pushes himself deeper inside.

  “Sweet Jesus,” she moans.

  I don’t know how his movements feel good to her. He’s pounding into her so hard; he must be bruising her insides. But her soft cries of delight tell a different tale.

  My mouth parts as his tongue licks over her ear, whispering dirty words as he fills her cunt.

  I remember his tongue, how commanding and deep it went into my mouth, how he could make me drip between my legs from just his tongue on my lips.

  He grabs her hips harder as her body jerks backward against his. And I remember how his hand felt against my stomach as our bodies hardened against each other, both resisting and begging to be connected together.

  And then he grabs her neck—just like he did me. He squeezes, although not to snuff out her life as he tried with me all those years ago. More to heighten her senses, to demonstrate his power, and her relinquish her control to him. Because that is what he needs above all else. Power and control.

  Why would I ever dream about a man like Enzo? She may be enjoying herself, but it’s not from what he’s doing. He’s taking what he wants without giving back. He’s just like the men who took me.

  I can’t keep watching, but I can’t tear myself away. Instead, a single tear falls at the loss of something I can never have.

  “I never took you for a voyeur,” Enzo’s voice booms behind me.

  I jump. Enzo isn’t fucking the woman on the couch. He’s standing behind me, and the fact that it brings me any relief at all burns me to my core.

  26

  Enzo

  I lost control.

  I never fucking lose control. And now I’ve done it twice in a span of twenty minutes.

  I punched Langston, something I haven’t done since we were kids and wrestling around testing our strength. It needed to be done. And it helps my image at the club; the men respect brute force. But I haven’t had to use my muscles like that in the club in a while.

  What I did after though was a complete loss of myself. I walked off in a whirlwind of rage, thinking after a stiff drink and time alone, I would be better. Composed, back to my usual controlled self.

  Instead, I spiraled.

  I drank four glasses of whiskey. I haven’t drunk that quickly since I was a teenager. I needed to take the edge off of the restless feeling stirring in my chest. But the drinks did nothing to calm the wild storm brewing inside me.

  Instead, I went to my private bedroom. I laid on my bed, took my cock out, and jacked off to the thought of Kai.

  There are dozens of women, scantily clad throughout this club. Any one of them would love the pleasure of being mine tonight. And they would do more than be mine, if I paid them well for their time with
me. Most nights if I needed a woman, I’d have Zeke select one for me. She would be paid well for her time with me, although no woman ever complained about how I treated them in bed. Every woman I’ve been with would have let me fuck them for nothing. No money was needed, but the money bought me a sense of protection from the expectation of more. It also let me have my way with them because I was paying for the night.

  But I saw the way the women I fucked looked at me. With eyes of lust when they saw my sharp muscles and rugged body. They are used to entertaining men, most of the men in the club are older, ragged with life experiences. They are wealthy, dangerous men, but the women never fear, because they know I protect them. I protect all of them. If a single woman were ever hurt in one of my clubs, the bastards that touched them would die for their mistake.

  The women see me as their salvation. A way to make money they never could otherwise. I’m their defender and savior. And if they get selected to spend a night with me, they see it as winning a prize. I pay them more for a night than they earn here in a year. And I pay them well for a year’s worth of work.

  They think I’m a saint compared to the other men. They’re wrong. I’m worse because I’m the only one with the power to save them, but I don’t.

  I fuck them. Give them the best night of their life. One filled with passion, pushing their limits as they take my large cock in every orifice.

  And then I leave, treating them like whores. Not because I think of them that way, but because I will never date. Never marry. Never have anything more than one night.

  Ever.

  But I haven’t had any of the women in the club in weeks. Not since Kai stumbled back into my life.

  I don’t understand the pull she has over me. Maybe it’s because she is the only one who threatens everything I’ve worked to obtain. She could destroy me. And being with someone who has that kind of power over me is thrilling. It terrifies and excites me. Pushes me, and that is something I rarely experience.