“Jagger,” I murmur, eyes fixated on the tattoo lining his back.
I’d take a wild guess and say it’s a nickname, judging by the way he turns, eyes narrowed, staring at me as if I’ve called his name.
“How original,” I mutter. “Great nickname.”
His glare hardens and he crosses his arms across his chest, causing his muscles to jump and bunch. “It’s of no use to you, either way.”
“I should at least know who the bastard is who captured me, if I’m staying a while. Don’t you think?” I smile sweetly.
His jaw tics. “The only thing you need to know about me is that if you continue smart mouthing me, I will tape your fuckin’ lips closed.”
I close my mouth, but only for a moment. “Are you this charming toward all women, or only the ones you kidnap?”
He grunts. “My life is none of your business.”
I shove a finger into my chest. “My life is none of yours, either, but that hasn’t stopped you.”
He storms forward, and I keep my eyes fixed on his, challenging him. He stops in front of me, anger washing over his face. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. Act tough, be brave and witty, but let me tell you this ... I will break you, little girl, because everyone has a weakness, even you.”
Then he turns, walking out and slamming the door without another word. I stand, staring at the door for long moments. He’s wrong—he won’t break me because I won’t let him. I stare at the tray of food and my stomach grumbles. I hesitantly go over, lifting the silver lid off the dish. There isn’t much, but it’s food, and I’m not about to starve to death on top of everything else. I pick up the ham sandwich and bite into it, chewing slowly.
I haven’t eaten since before the club two nights ago, and my body isn’t ready for the food that comes rolling in.
The second it reaches my stomach, it twists violently.
“God,” I mutter, dropping the rest of the sandwich. “Fuck.”
Praying I keep the contents of the food down, I climb into bed again and close my eyes, hand over my stomach until I fall into a fitful sleep, exhaustion getting the better of me.
I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I sleep, but I wake at the sound of the door opening. I sit up slowly, eyes blurred, and stare at the door and gasp as not just one, but five men enter the room. It’s so shocking that it takes me a moment to convince myself I’m not dreaming. I grip the blanket, pulling it close to my chest, and my heart thumps against my ribcage. What the hell are they here for? Maybe they have decided it’s easier to get rid of me. I can’t see Jagger, or Johnny, or whatever the hell he goes by, and that is more alarming than the five men in my room.
“Well would you look at that, Willow Barnes ...”
I stare at the man who has spoken—he’s tall, well built, and gorgeous with blonde hair and green eyes. In fact, they’re all scarily attractive. Where did he get these guys? Military drop outs?
“Who are you?” I ask, keeping the blanket tucked to my chest.
“Get up,” he orders.
Oh, I don’t think so.
“No.”
“I’ll ask you once more, get up or I’ll get you up.”
“I don’t fucking think so,” I snap, even though my insides feel like they’re turning to jelly.
Green eyes flaring, he storms toward the bed and hauls me up, forcing me to my feet. He slams me down so hard I lose my footing and topple backward, tripping and falling against a nearby coffee table. My head slams against it, and I cry out as pain shoots through my temple. Pressing my hand to my head, I can see blood coating my fingers.
What the actual hell.
“You bastard,” I snarl. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You will learn very quickly you’ll do as you’re told around here. Now, get up and come over here or I’ll break your fingers one by one until you do.”
I stare at him, for long, long moments, but something in his cold gaze tells me he’s not joking. I stand on wobbly legs and walk over, stopping in front of him but refusing to meet his eyes.
“Fast learner,” he mutters.
“What do you want?” I grind out, but my voice is a whole lot less powerful than it was a few moments ago.
I keep my hand pressed to my head. I can’t see how bad the wound is, but I don’t want to get covered in blood.
“I want answers,” he growls. “I want to know everything you know about your father.”
“Here’s what I know,” I grind out, finally meeting his glare. “He’s dead. Dickhead.”
He raises his hand to slap me, but Johnny is in there and has his hand crushed in his grip in a split second. It’s so fast it takes me a moment to register just how quickly he appeared. “Hit her once more, Snake, and I’ll break your fuckin’ fingers. What the fuck do you boys think you’re doin’ in here?”