Page 50 of Brazen Defiance (Brazen Boys #4)

Clara

I ’m tossed into the back of a black SUV like a bag of dirty laundry, the giant man stepping away to let a smaller, wiry man through, who locks me in with a seatbelt like I’m a toddler.

Something about him looks familiar, and when I note his multihued eyes, I realize he’s the man who talked to me at the masquerade.

He’s the one who took those photos last winter, another tail that I wasn’t even watching for.

Anger, at both the violation and the manhandling, surges up, but before I can say anything, he leans across me and mutters in Trips’ ear. “You shouldn’t have come back, Archie.” It stops me in my tracks. It’s not a threat—the statement is coated in regret.

Trips twists his lips, not replying. We have our reasons. But this man doesn’t need to know them.

The man takes a second to pluck both of our cell phones from our pockets, then backs out, leaving me with a sullen Trips, his hands handcuffed to the roof of the vehicle, a red mark that might bruise bright on his cheek.

Despite the awkward position he’s in, he still looks like he’s holding court at some exclusive country club—his restraints are just a momentary inconvenience.

I check the door, unsurprised to find it locked, as the wiry man takes the driver’s seat, his face grim as he glances at us in the rearview mirror, the engine still rumbling from when they broke in. Ready for a quick getaway, I suppose.

The fact that I’m loose back here tells me how much of a danger they think I am: obviously none at all.

Trips crosses his ankle over his knee and stares out the window, his mock ease not unexpected, but worrying. I mirror him, though, looking out my window, watching the familiar sights zip away as we drive farther out to the suburbs.

The big guy looks over his shoulder at us, his gaze dismissive as he takes me in. “Are you sure this is the right girl?”

My hands clench in the skirt of my red sundress, then relax, smoothing out the wrinkles, not wanting to show how nervous I am.

The other man gives a curt nod. “That’s her.”

“She was clinging to some other guy, kissing him and everything when I took her. I don’t see why Mr. Westerhouse would want a cheater in the family.”

“It’s above our pay grade to question what the boss wants, so don’t bother trying.”

And that’s the stab to the gut I should expect going forward.

Only people willing to hear me out could understand what we all have together.

It’s so much bigger than a simple ‘boy meets girl’ story.

We’re a mess of so many knots and points of contact that we’re inescapable, parts of a whole, locked together in such a way to turn the separate strings of our lives into a net that can catch even the largest predators.

The miles roll by, Trips and I not sharing a glance, even when the SUV inches through the gate and follows the long winding drive to the former hotel.

They get Trips out first, his hands locked behind his back before the wiry man encourages him up the front stairs, leaving the big guy for me.

I get out on my own and trail Trips into the house, the picture of docile as the large guard hovers half a pace behind me.

We’re taken straight to Trips’ dad’s office, the path only vaguely familiar. This time, I pay attention, though, catching sight of at least one camera on the way there.

The wiry man knocks, and after a painful wait, we’re called through.

Trips’ father doesn’t turn as we’re hustled in, instead looking out the full wall of windows at the back of the office.

The view is stunning, vivid greens and red roses chasing down the hill from the house to the lake, a splash from the pool just barely visible to the side, reminding me it isn’t just Trips and me caught here.

“Thank you, Falk,” Trips’ father says, nodding at the wiry man with Trips. My unnamed guard pulls out a chair for me in front of the desk, which I take before he goes to stand with the other man, Falk. They shift so each of them has a hold of one of Trips’ arms.

If I hadn’t been nervous before, that would be cue enough for me to proceed with caution.

Glancing around, nothing else seems ominous besides the fact that the desk in front of me is perfectly clear, no computer, knickknacks, or pads of paper to be found.

The room hums with the lack of conversation, but it’s obvious that Trips’ father is in charge here, and none of us will risk our skin just to fill the void.

He takes a sniff of something dark in a tumbler, his hands still large, but the rest of him slimmer than when I met him this winter, his linen coat slightly loose around his frame. “You’re back,” he states.

Trips says nothing, and I follow his lead.

His father turns, his face in shadow with the bright sun behind him.

“I’m disappointed. We had an agreement. A generous one, with time to say your goodbyes and adjust to the changes in your lives.

It should have been enough, but you know, Archie, that trust is earned.

You didn't have it. And you two spit on my generosity. Running means there will be no more carrots for the two of you. Only sticks.”

He strolls across the room, his feet silent on the thick rug, coming up to me, ignoring Trips completely.

The snap of my head to the side, my cheek stinging, tears in my eyes as I try not to react to the slap, it’s all a surprise.

I knew he was violent. I knew he was dangerous. But I didn’t expect the first greeting I got from the man to be a beating.

Blinking back tears, I look up at the man before me, Trips yelling and struggling across the room, the reason for two guards and handcuffs suddenly clear.

“I warned you there would be consequences, Archie. This is on you.”

I see the second slap coming, heavy from his other hand, and I lock my jaw, letting it hit, this one stinging enough to tell me his ring cut my cheek. But I don’t cry out. It won’t help. Not with him.

Based on everything I know about the man in front of me, nothing will stop him but some internal measure that no one else is privy to.

So, I scrunch my hands in my skirt and force myself to breathe before I move my head back to center, the trickle of blood dripping down my cheek giving me something to focus on besides the pain.

He tuts. “I hope you heal quickly, girl. You have a rehearsal dinner to attend tomorrow.” Then his thumb digs into the hickey on my neck, a yelp barely caught in my throat. “And cover this nonsense up. You look like a common whore.”

I risk a glance at Trips, and he’s straining against the hold of the other two men. I purposely take a deep breath and let it out, not wanting him to get lost in the rage. He can’t. I need him here. All of him. I can’t do this alone.

Trips’ dad pulls out his phone and taps something out, the door opening a moment later, a harried looking man pushed in before two other guards.

Then the one on the left looks up, and I can’t hide the shiver that slides through me.

Crazy eyes, a twisted smile, and a sword coated in blood.

A body on the floor soaked in rusty red.

A body upright and stalking toward me, vengeance in his eyes.

“Easy, Smith,” the guard Falk barks, but the man just bares his teeth across the room.

The second his hands latch onto my arms, I struggle, Trips breaking free for all of two steps before he’s yanked back.

Then I’m hoisted onto the bare desk, the harried man standing by my feet while the unknown new guard pins my arms to the wood and the smiling maniac I thought I’d killed presses a gun under my chin.

“Now, now, Ms. McElroy.” The smooth timbre of Trips’ dad has more shivers following the first set. “Smith here desperately wants a reason to kill you, and honestly, I can’t blame him. So please lay still and let the doctor do his work.”

I can barely breathe for fear of Smith’s trigger finger, so when my skirt is flipped up and my panties yanked down, I don’t risk moving my head an inch to see what’s going on.

I have an idea, and it’s one we planned for, but I thought we’d have more time.

It's too much, too soon, but I can’t escape.

I walked into this. I came back, knowing what was waiting for me.

The office door clicks again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remind myself that sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war. That even if it feels like I’m giving up, I’m still fighting.

The doctor’s voice is soft, his touch shaky. “There may be some discomfort,” he says, something ice-cold slipping into me. Thirty-seven unbearable seconds later, there’s a pinch and an internal spasm, then he removes the speculum.

“There might be some spotting,” the doctor says. “Ibuprofen has the best results for discomfort.” He slips my panties back on, pulling my skirt down, like that fixes what he just did to me. Like a touch of modesty counters taking my choices from me.

Tears that I don’t want to exist trickle over my cheeks, and the gun under my chin digs in harder.

“How long until she can get pregnant?” Trips’ monster of a father asks, like he has a right to my body. Like I’m another pawn in his game.

And I am. I set myself on his board.

“Technically, immediately. But it often takes several months to conceive, even at her age.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Another click sounds, and I force myself to open my eyes, Smith’s fury licking at my skin.

Shifting just my eyes, scared to move more, the first person I see is Trips’ brother Trevor, his smile familiar, his eyes bright like he’s just gotten an exciting present.

Scanning the guards, I note Falk looks sick across the room, but still has a tight hold on Trips, whispering in his ear, hopefully working to keep us both from being shot.

And Trips’ father just takes another sniff of his drink, although a small smile curls his lips when he sees my tears.

“So, girl, if you remember our prior deal, you were to give me a grandson. I’m not sure I trust my son with the task.

He’s not the most obedient. I allowed him too much leeway as a child.

That’s my mistake, and I’ll own up to it.

” He takes another sniff, not hiding the way he scans my body, still pinned to his desk by unseen hands and a gun to my head.

“Why he’d want an inconsistent, fickle girl like you when there are women clamoring to become a loyal Westerhouse is yet another disappointment.

But I love my son, so he’ll get what he wants.

Even after everything you two have put me through.

I would have assumed it was your intelligence that drew him, but, well, you’re here, aren’t you? ”

He turns from me, not at all concerned that his guard dog might kill me when he isn’t watching.

“Archie, I hope you understand the gift I’m giving you.

You wanted this woman. I’ll let you keep her.

But from here on out, I expect you to keep her in line.

Any misstep she makes, I’ll take out on her.

Any misstep you make, I’ll take out on her.

No more leeway.” He steps closer to Trips, keeping enough distance between them so he won’t have to look up at his son.

“You’re mine. Any privileges you once had are now revoked.

You have two tasks going forward. You will give me a grandson.

And you will do the job I trained you to do, in its entirety, without complaint. ”

He strolls to the window, staring down at the lake. “You’re both dismissed. We’ll meet again tomorrow morning, once your adolescent brains are clear enough to listen to details.”

Smith holsters his weapon, then hauls me to my feet, dragging me stumbling past Trevor, who grins at me.

“Welcome home, sister,” he says, the door closing before I can think of a retort.

When I’m shoved into the same blue bedroom I’d stayed in the last time I was in this godforsaken place, I’m sadly unsurprised when the door locks behind me. Leaving me alone, trapped, and already barely holding back a panic attack.

I force myself into the shower to wash off the feeling of unfamiliar hands where they never should have been. Scrubbing my body until my skin is red, I let out only a single sob.

Because there’s a camera here, too.