Page 49 of Doxed

“Ugh!” I grunt loudly, sweat dripping down my temple and my muscles quivering.

“That’s it, Little Ghost,” Miles purrs, rubbing his skilled fingers over the tops of my thighs. His smirk is naughty as he watches me from above. “One more, you can do it.”

I push the dumbbells above my head one last time before they give out. Miles catches them, stopping me from just dropping them to the floor in front of me.

“Good job, Briar.” He takes the weights from me and places them back on the rack in front of the long line of mirrors.

“My arms are dead,” I pant, resting my head on the back of the seat.

He turns around, a thick black headband pushes his brown hair back.

When he invited me to workout with him in his home gym, I thought maybe he’d go shirtless and I could get a view with my torture session, but instead, he wore a black oversized tee shirt and black sweats.

The only thing bare is his feet. What a waste.

“I told you to stop after the last workout.” He crosses his arms, looking down at me.

“I wanted to keep up with you,” I say under my breath.

He offers his hand to me, his wide palm open in front of my nose. “Come on, let’s recover in the sauna.”

“Yes,” I groan again, smacking my hand into his and letting him pull me up.

Miles opens the frosted glass door at the corner of the room and lets go of my hand to grab the neckline of his shirt and pull it over his head.

He drops it into a hamper by the door and as I’m cataloging the multitude of palm-sized tattoos scattered across his back; he bends slightly and pushes his sweats and boxers down his hips.

I’m forced to take a step back as he bends over and grabs them off the floor to deposit them in the basket with his shirt.

I guess I'm finally getting my wish. He taps at the glass panel on the wall and red lights illuminate in the sauna.

The muscles in his toned ass pops with his steps.

Ah fuck it, I think as I strip off my sports bra, spandex shorts, and thong, tossing them into the hamper as well.

The sauna isn’t big, but it’s a good size for a home one.

Benches are on all three sides, and Miles sits on one of the shorter ones on the side, so I take the seat opposite him and lean my back against the wood bench.

We sit in silence, and I lay my head back and close my eyes, enjoying the room warming up and relaxing my worn muscles.

Miles’ foot gently slides along the inside of mine, and I crack an eye open to look at him.

He’s leaning back, his cock at half mast as he watches me, and when I don't move away or object, he leans forward, placing his hand on my ankle.

Scooting my foot forward, I watch him from the bottom of my vision.

He moves off of the bench and kneels on the floor, moving my legs apart and settling between them.

Miles’ big hands glide up my outer calves and he stares up at me with a hungry gaze.

They pass my knees and continue up my thighs.

He leans forward, skimming his lips against my inner thigh.

His tongue darts out and laps at my skin before his teeth close around it gently.

He continues, placing love bites up my leg until he reaches my bare pussy.

His breath feels cooler than the surrounding temperature as he blows a breath over my sensitive flesh.

My body jolts, the cool air caressing my skin. Miles’ low chuckle zips right down to my clit, making wild, unrestrained lust pool in my lower belly. He lifts my leg, placing it over his shoulder and adjusting me so I’m splayed open for him.

Miles’ light green eyes lock on mine imploringly, and I nod my head once. I want this.

He leans in, two of his fingers spreading me open, when a screeching alarm sounds from outside of the sauna.

I startle, my body shooting upright and hitting the back of my head on the sauna wall.

Miles races through the frosted glass door, and I walk to it and watch as he makes it to the bench we were at and picks his phone off of the matted floor.

His lips set in a hard line, and his eyes are wild as they look up at me. He keeps his head down but his gaze on me as he stalks back to me.

“Get dressed,” he orders, grabbing my clothes out of the hamper and shoving them at me.

I take them. His grip loosens before I’ve fully taken them, and my bra almost falls to the floor. He doesn’t notice, he’s too busy grabbing his clothes. “What was that alarm? What's going on?”

He looks up as he pulls his sweats up his long legs, noticing I haven’t started yet. “Get dressed, Briar. Now!” His eyes are wide and his voice is panicked. I’ve never seen him this way.

“Miles! What’s going on?!” I shout.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and shoves his shirt over my head. “They figured out it was us. They just breached the gates.”

My heart stops and I force myself to pull my shorts on.

Forget the underwear. We don’t have time.

Miles grabs my hand and pulls me down the hallway; his legs are so long and they eat up the space much faster than mine.

I almost trip a few times, but his iron grip keeps me moving, regardless.

His focus is in front of us, never wavering, while I keep changing glances out of the windows, waiting to see someone coming up the drive or through the trees.

We stop at his office and he pushes me inside. “Remember the tunnel?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I answer, leaning to the side to look out the window behind him.

“If something happens to me, take it.” He moves to close the door, but I stop him, realizing that he’s not joining me in here.

“I’m not going anywhere without you. Get in here.” My nails dig into his wrist in desperation.

He shakes his head, his eyes softening. “I’ll meet you at the helicopter. I won’t let these men take you again.”

My throat feels like it’s closing. “Don’t leave me,” my voice wobbles with the tears pooling in my eyes.

He kisses me. Hard, rough, and filled with more passion than I’ve ever experienced in my life.

He nips at my lower lip before pulling away.

“I’ve been with you before you even knew me, and I’ll be with you for the rest of your life.

There is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.

” He kisses me one more time before he pulls the door closed.

“No!” I shout and reach for the door handle, but it won’t open. The screen next to the door reads “ System Lockdown” in bold, red letters. He’s locked me in.

No! I rest my hands and forehead against the cold metal door.

I allow myself two deep breaths before I hurry to Miles’ desk and search the cameras.

Miles is sprinting up the stairs to his room where he disappears into the closet before coming back out in a tee shirt and with his wicked-looking knife.

He bounds down the stairs at the same time that I notice six men in tactical gear emerging from the forest. They have big guns trained on the house and the tears that I was holding back fall freely down my face when I realize how outnumbered and underprepared Miles is for this fight.

I hope he knows something I don't or has called for help.

Miles ducks behind the kitchen island—there aren't many places to hide in a glass house—seconds before the men kick in the giant walnut front door.

They split up. Two men take the stairs, while two more come down the hallway. They stop at the half-bath and check inside. The last two men walk through the living room and then into the kitchen.

Miles jumps out from behind the island, his knife positioned above his head.

He brings it down into the face of one man.

He yanks it out, an arc of blood coming with it, and turns the man around, using him as a shield.

The two men from the hallway rush back into the kitchen at the sounds of a fight, and they all train their weapons on Miles.

How is he going to get out of this? It's four to one.

“Where’s the girl?” one man asks. Miles doesn’t answer, just stares at them, holding their dead colleague in his blood-soaked arm.

“If you give her up, we won’t kill you,” another adds.

“Bullshit!” Miles laughs. “You’re killing me whether I cooperate or not.”

I’m too invested to notice when two more men sneak up the steps from the garage. “You’re right,” one man says casually before he fires his rifle twice into Miles’ back.

A blood-curdling scream rips from my throat. My soul leaves my body as Miles drops to his knees. Someone fires two more shots to his side and another from the front. He crashes into the cabinets at his side, a bright red spot blooming on his shoulder.

“The garage is clear. Keep looking for her.” The man who first shot Miles orders. Like he didn’t just kill someone. He completely disregards Miles.

“The second floor is clear. We’ll go back up to check the third.”

“We’ll finish up on the first.”

I back away from the desk as they make plans over two dead bodies.

My fingers shake as I peel back the carpet for the tunnel, and my vision blurs with tears as I turn the latch and open the door.

I climb down the metal ladder with numb legs; at the bottom is a concrete corridor.

There are no lights, so it’s pitch black and freezing on my bare feet.

I don’t know how long I walk for with my hand running across the wall to keep me going forward, but eventually a dim light comes into view.

I run for it. At this point, it’s my only salvation.

I don't even know what I'm going to do once I get out of here. Maybe I could find that biker gang Miles is… was friends with. What was their name? The Devil’s Outlaws? Yeah, right? I’ll find them and tell them what happened.

If they worked with Miles, I’m sure they weren’t on the right side of the law.

I climb up another metal ladder and turn a latch like the one in Miles’ office.

Fresh, damp air smacks me in the face the second the door releases and I climb through the hole and onto the wet earth.

Quietly, I look around and when I don't hear or see anyone, I quietly jog for the helicopter hangar. I don’t know where else to go and I figure there has to be something in there that I can use as a weapon, or maybe I can hide here until the murderers give up and leave.

The door doesn't budge when I push on it—again—but after a few more attempts, it finally gives way. As I'm about to step inside, someone’s arm wraps around me, locking my arms to my side, and over my eyes, blocking my vision.

I scream before the sharp pinch of a needle enters my neck.

With sluggish movements, I reach back and claw at the man’s face, but my body is growing weaker by the second.

And soon, bitter iciness washes over me as I lose consciousness.

I know where I'm going, and this time no one is going to save me.