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  She screams, pounding her fists against my back. “What the fuck?” She shrieks again, and I clench my fingers into her ass, causing her to tense. “You!” I feel her fingers clawing at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. Next thing I know, my fucking testicles are being smashed in two by my boxers. The bitch actually just gave me a fucking wedgie!

  “You’re a fucking bitch,” I growl. She pulls harder, and I have to swallow because that shit hurts.

  “Put me down!” she screams, the high-pitched squeal behind it piercing my ears.

  “Oh, I’ll put you the fuck down when I’m good and ready.” I adjust her on my shoulder, clamping my arm around her thighs harder while I shove the shower door open. “From now on you’re with me, or locked in my fucking room, which means we’ll be spending some quality time together. Problem is, you smell like a fucking homeless person.”

  I reach over and twist the knob, then I throw her down onto the shower floor. “How about now? Is this a good time to put you down, huh?” I watch the cold water pelt down over her, fighting a smile. She looks so damn pathetic.

  “Oh, you fucker!” she screams, every muscle in her body clenching as the cold water hits her.

  I smirk, bracing my arms against the shower door to block her exit. She jumps up and pounds against my chest. Droplets of water splash in my face with each smack she makes over my chest. It’s ridiculous that she thinks those weak pushes of hers will do anything to get me away from her.

  My eyes skim down her body. Caleb’s oversized white shirt is soaked, which makes it very see-through and damn near impossible to ignore those pert little nipples of hers straining against the thin material. Fuck me, she has a good body, it’s hard not to notice. I swallow, and, against my will, my cock swells and presses against the zipper of my jeans. Fucking great!

  She catches me off-guard and punches me in the stomach. “Ow, motherfucker!” she says as she shakes her fist.

  I laugh as she hops around, holding her injured hand. “You done?”

  I grab my crotch, nonchalantly adjusting my hard-on, which she takes note of; she swallows just before her face morphs into a scowl. She probably thinks she’s about to get raped. I twist the knob to the hot water, my gaze straying back down to her perky tits before locking on her face. “You can make everything a fight, but please understand that you’ll fucking lose.” She is going to love this next order. “Now, take your fucking clothes off!”

  Her nostrils flare and her eyes flame. “Go fuck yourself, you perverted cunt,” she hisses, her expression hard, her face still red.

  I laugh. “Cunt?” I ask, shocked at what a filthy little mouth she has on her. I give a half-ass shrug and cock a smile. “Have it your way.” Grabbing the collar of her shirt with both hands, I shred it right down the middle, exposing her full breasts.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she yells, and scrambles to cover herself with the torn pieces of the shirt.

  “I’m done fucking around with you, so take off your clothes and clean your ass up!” I say as I raise a brow at her.

  She glares at me, angry, hateful.

  “Do it. Now!”

  “I’ll take a shower...if you get out.” She’s glaring at me through the wet strands of hair covering her face.

  I shake my head and grin. “I don’t think so. I step outta here and who knows what sort of trouble you’ll get into.” I lean against the shower wall, purposefully letting my eyes roam over her. I need her to feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. I have to break her down.

  “There are no windows in here. I can’t go anywhere except the door, which you can stand on the other side of.”

  Steam from the shower billows up toward the ceiling. She’s trying her best to cover herself, but all she’s managing to do is squeeze those fucking breasts of hers together and up, almost like a corset. I watch the water trickle between her cleavage, then down the rest of her body. The heat is flushing the exposed, pale skin of her stomach. Her matted, honey-blonde hair is sticking to her neck and shoulders. She looks fucking sexy as hell like that. I shouldn’t be getting so turned on by this, but damn, my cock doesn’t have morals.

  “Just do as you’re told for once, woman, damn!” I’m done. I can’t help but think about how good it would feel to pin her up against the wall and fuck the shit out of her. This needs to stop. I need to get the hell out of here.

  I shake my head, closing my eyes for a second. “Just take off your damn clothes and take the shower.” I grab her tattered shirt and shred it even more, then yank it down her shoulders. The soaked material drops to the shower floor, and I grab the waist of the shorts she’s wearing. She hits me and screams, but that doesn’t faze me. “It’s not like I’ve never seen a fucking woman naked, and it’s not like I’m doing this to get off. I can’t trust you,” I say. She beats at me with her fists and causes me to lose my balance. Out of instinct, I grab onto her, my hands slipping over her wet, tight thighs. She falls silent, completely freezing in place. Quickly, she shoves the shorts the rest of the way down her legs.

  Her arms tighten around her and she hunches over a little. She tries to hide her face from me, but I can still see it crumple before she peers up at me briefly. The moment her eyes meet mine, they squeeze closed.

  I do feel a little guilty for doing this to her, but she really needs to learn not to test me. I reach into the shower and wrap my hand around the back of her slick neck. She flinches. Placing my lips on her ear, I growl, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

  I feel her cower under my touch. “Please,” she pleads, her voice breaking.

  I skim my fingers over her skin before I let my hand fall from her neck, and there’s a deafening silence.

  The splatter of the water against the tiles and the frantic sound of her quickening breaths seem so loud in this moment. I stare at her. Her eyes are still closed, her hands trying desperately to cover herself. I can tell she’s fighting back the urge to cry. I watch the droplets of water bead and roll down her cheek, down her neck. Her pulse is visibly thumping in her throat.

  Could this woman possibly be trying to fuck me over? She’s gone from terrified to outright crazy, and now she’s hiding in a corner afraid again. She has no idea what she’s doing.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I stumble back a few steps and watch her tiny form crammed in the corner, trying to hide from the crazed lunatic that put her there. I need to leave her alone so I can go punch my fist through a wall.

  “Just take the fucking shower. I’ll be over there.” I point to the long granite countertop. “I won’t look at you, but I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Her eyes remain trained on the shower floor as I back away, carefully shutting the glass door behind me.

  I take a towel from the closet and drop it onto the mat, then lean against the sink like I promised. She’s right, I could just wait outside, but I know now not to underestimate her. It’s her dignity or mine.

  Why in the hell does shit like this have to happen? I catch a glimpse of the shower in the mirror. I can’t see her through the fogged-up glass, but I can make out the outline of her body and I force myself to look away. Two minutes ago she was looking at me like a fucking rapist, and now here I am getting aroused from a fucking silhouette of her. Primal instinct is a bitch.

  A few minutes later the shower turns off and the door slides open. I keep my gaze aimed at my boots, using every ounce of willpower I possess not to glance up at her.

  “Did you see the towel?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  When I do look up, she’s wrapped in the oversized towel, her wet hair falling down her back and dripping onto the floor.

  The second I walk past her, she jumps away from me. I grab another towel from the closet, and circle my finger in the air. “Turn around.”

  She does as ordered, her body remaining tense as she nervously glances at me over her shoulder. I gather her thick hair and place it in the towel, rubbing it to dry the excess wate
r from it. I skim down her exposed back, stopping on the rounded curve of her ass.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers.

  I swallow hard. What the hell am I doing? “You’re dripping all over my floor,” I tell her as I twist the towel around the ends of her damp hair and toss it over her shoulder. “Take it. I don’t want puddles all over the fucking place.” I try to sound as annoyed as possible.

  She’s quiet as I lead her down the hall to my room. I stand in the doorway and point to the dresser. “Find something to put on.”

  I start to leave, but catch myself. This girl’s going to tear my fucking room apart looking for something to kill me with, probably. Chuckling at the thought, I go to my closet and grab the gun stashed on the top shelf, tucking it under my arm. I move on to the nightstand and collect my pistol, then grab the gun hidden beneath the mattress. I eye her as I head to the door, smirking. “Before you get any bright ideas and accidentally shoot yourself,” I say as I shut the door, locking it with the key.

  “Arsehole!” I barely hear her shout as I make my way down the stairs.

  He slams the door in my face, a smug smirk on his lips.

  “Arsehole!” I shout after him.

  I pace across the room. The last place on earth I want to be right now is in Jude’s room. I swear to God, that guy is bipolar. One minute he’s screaming at me and degrading me, the next he’s drying my hair. I get whiplash just from being around him. Quite frankly, I’d rather he just remained an arsehole. I can take his temper more easily than I can take his kindness, not that I have to deal with it very often.

  I scour his room, curious more than anything. I go to the dresser and pull open one of the drawers, half expecting to find an arsenal of weapons, but oh, no, he gutted the place because I can’t be trusted not to shoot myself. Prick. I take a t-shirt out of the drawer and pull it over my head, dropping the towel. The material smells of him, without the added cigarette smoke. Clean and crisp without the taint of corruption that he carries like a bad smell. I can’t find any shorts, so I settle for boxers, which weirds me out, because the only time I’ve ever worn a guy’s boxers is after I’ve had sex with him.

  I survey the room, looking for clues about the man who lives here. There are very few. A picture of two women sits on the bedside table, but other than that it’s bare, impersonal, almost unlived in.

  I move to the window, pulling back the curtain to allow some light into the dingy man cave, only to find bars across the glass. Are you fucking kidding me? Fucking bars! This place is literally a jail. I suddenly feel claustrophobic, trapped and enclosed. I’m stuck in this room, his room. What happens when he comes back? I’ve been in a room with this guy all of three times. The first time he strangled me, the second he force fed me, and the third he stripped me naked like the fucking pervert he is. I thought he was going to start having a wank right there in front of me. The man is an animal, a filthy, disgusting animal. Oh, God, where am I going to sleep? I’m not sharing that bed with him. What if he tries to touch me? I saw the look on his face earlier, he’s going to try and touch me. My chest feels tight at the prospect. If he wants me, he can have me, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. He’s three times my bloody size, and I’m defenceless.

  My eyes skitter across the room, searching for something, anything. There must be something in here. The guy has more weapons than a military regiment. I start frantically opening drawers. There must be a gun in here, a knife, something. I glance at the bathroom doorway, spotting the mirror hanging on the wall. Could I smash it? Use a shard of glass? No, too obvious. I don’t want to attack him unless I have to. Weapon or not, the likelihood is that I will lose.

  I storm into the bathroom and search the cabinets, until—bingo!—my eyes land on a disposable razor. I smile as I snatch it from the shelf, running my finger over it. It’s not sharp, but it will do. I use the edge of the vanity to snap the plastic edge off, exposing the blade. It’s not much, but if he tries to attack me, it may well make a difference. At this stage, I’ll take all the help I can get.

  An hour after I’ve left her in my room, I sit in my office with Marney.

  He puffs on his cigarette, then twists it between his fingers. He says something to me, but I’m too lost in my own thoughts to process it, and I guess he can tell. Marney leans over my desk, his eyes set on mine with concern. “I know you don’t want to believe it, Jude, ‘cause I know you don’t want to kill another woman—”

  “I didn’t kill the first one, you did.”

  He rolls his eyes. “All right, but things aren’t looking good for her. You need to figure out what the hell you're gonna do, son.”

  I clasp my hands behind my head and bend over my lap.

  Marney huffs. I hear his chair creak, then I feel his hand rest on my shoulder. “I know, Jude. I know. It’s not a situation you wanna be in, but you are. If she were a man, you’d kill her. You wouldn’t question it, hell, you wouldn’t care if you were wrong or not, you’d just kill the bastard. A life is a life, regardless what’s between the person’s legs.” He pats me a few times and starts coughing.

  I exhale and look up at him.

  “David had the kid’s line tapped, and he’s been asking Joe when he can give you the money, Joe said he wants to give her a little more time to burn your face into her memory. Wise to it or not, that girl’s gonna cause your death.” He shakes his head; frail grey wisps of hair catch in the air and he quickly smooths them back out. “You gotta get her outta here. And I’m sorry to say, if you let her outta here alive, well…” He walks to the door, stopping to shoot me one last pitiful glare. “I guess if she walks outta here alive, Joe’ll have you killed in a matter of hours.”

  The door shuts behind him and I’m left alone. This is the first time in a long time I’ve felt like I’m going to completely lose it. I think this may be panic. My pulse is going ninety to nothing; my thoughts are all jumbled, I can’t even make sense of them; my entire body is coated in a thick sheen of sweat; and all I want to do is break something.

  So what if Euan is Joe’s nephew? And Marney had the dipshit’s line tapped and Joe mentioned Victoria to him. That doesn’t mean she knows why she’s here...does it? The fact that I don’t want her to be involved is concerning, to say the least, but what I really can’t handle is the fact that I’ve been set up. That is crystal-fucking-clear. I am no longer in control of this situation, and I do not like that.

  I leap from my chair and pace, dragging my hands through my hair. All I can think about is how fucked up this all is. I’ve been set up by the man who killed my mother and sister. I’ve never been outsmarted, and that’s what Joe’s just done. That man ruined my life once, and he’s trying to do it again.

  This stops right here. I need to know whether she’s involved with Joe. I know that as soon as I mention this shit to the other guys, all hell will break loose. I have to be certain she is working for Joe. Without a shadow of a doubt certain. That’s not going to be easy.

  I stare through the thick nicotine haze. Each of my uncles’ eyes are wide and set on me because of what I just disclosed to them.

  Bob runs his hands down his face, his fingers scraping over his short stubble. “Set up?” He shoots out of the recliner and paces the living room. “By a fucking woman?” he yells.

  Shaking my head, I clarify. “No, by Joe.”

  “Yeah, and a fucking woman!” He points toward the hall.

  Caleb clears his throat. “You think she knows, Jude?”

  Inhaling, I glare at him. What a stupid fucking question. “How the fuck would I know that, huh? I have no idea.” Now I’m pacing, and the more I think about it, the hotter I get.

  Bob blocks my path, his jaw ticking. “Every damn person knows you got a soft spot for a female.” He pokes me in the chest. “You fucked up letting that be known. What better way for Joe to do you in than by a damn woman?”

  I draw my arm back to punch him, but instead I turn and slam it into the brick fire
place, my knuckles splitting open against the rough stones. “Touch me again, and I’ll break your fucking arm, old man.”

  Bob pulls his gun and heads out of the living room, mumbling to himself.

  “Hey!” I shout. “Hey!” I run after him, grabbing his shoulders and jerking him back. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

  “I’m gonna fucking kill her since you’re too weak to do it. Joe Campbell‘s not fucking with anyone else in this family…my sister and niece were enough!”

  I snatch the weapon from his hand. The metal slips in my damp palm as I place the tip against his temple. “I’ll handle the girl, got that?” I shout. Bob’s eyes narrow in a menacing stare. I cock the gun and press the barrel harder against his skull. “Question me, and I will fucking end you. Right now, she belongs to me. You fuck with something of mine, I will blow your fucking brains all over that damn wall. Don’t doubt that!”

  I notice him swallow before he straightens up. “Let’s be sure she’s involved; in the meantime Joe will have us all slaughtered in our sleep!”

  “Are you fucking stupid?” My finger twitches over the trigger, and I lean in to him.

  “Jude!” Caleb sounds terrified. “We’re just alarmed. Don’t fucking shoot him.”

  I glare at Bob, my nostrils flaring. “Disrespect me again and see what the fuck happens.” I release him, pushing him back against the wall, and he stumbles. His gaze holds mine silently for a few moments. I can tell he wants to say something, but he knows better.

  “Don’t fuck with me! I don’t have a problem washing your blood off my hands, family or not!” I shout as I make my way down the hallway. My integrity is at stake, my livelihood, my life.

  The hinges to the bedroom door creak as I push it open. She’s sitting on the bed, wearing one of my shirts and a pair of boxers. My eyes instinctually travel over her lean, exposed legs, and I have to swallow hard. Fuck, she looks hot. I tear my eyes from her body and try to focus on her face. Those deep blue eyes of hers are so damn innocent, and her plump, pouty lips are the kind any man would love to see wrapped around his cock. Instinct takes over and for a split second all I can do is imagine her on her knees, those fucking eyes looking up at me. Damn. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of anything but fucking her mouth.