Page 49 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. One (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #1)

Wren

When I get off my shift, Finn is waiting for me. This is my first time meeting him, but the guys showed me a picture of him so I know what he looks like.

I come around the counter with my bag, and he stands. The man towers over me even with his shoulders slightly hunched. Tattoos expand over almost every inch of his light skin. His dark hair falls into his face, which is the only un-tattooed part of him I can see. That paired with the fact that he’s wearing all black makes him look intimidating as hell.

No wonder the guys wanted him looking after me.

“So you’re Wren. Heard a lot about you.”

I nod. “Nice to meet you.”

He looks me up and down before shaking his head. “We’ll see if you feel that way by the end of the week.”

I’m about to ask what he means, but he’s already halfway out the door. I scramble to keep up with him. He’s silent the entire walk home, keeping a brisk pace that has me panting by the time we’re walking into my apartment building.

In the elevator, he presses the button to my floor. Once the doors are closed, he turns to me, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head like he’s deep in thought. “Shoulders back.”

“What?”

“Keep your shoulders back,” Finn says. “And don’t stand with your feet so close together.”

What the fuck?

I adjust my posture, straightening my spine and spreading my feet so they’re shoulder-width apart. “Like this?”

“Get that questioning look off your face. Ruins the whole thing.”

Seriously?

Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “Listen, I appreciate you keeping me safe. But don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a much better expression. Crossing your arms helps too.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“If I attacked you right now, would you be able to defend yourself?”

“N-no.”

“Exactly. You don’t know how to protect yourself. So until you do, your best defense is appearing like you could beat the shit out of anyone who even looks at you the wrong way. Act confident. Be intimidating. People will be more likely to leave you alone.”

“Got it.”

The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors slide open. We walk to my front door in silence, and I make sure to stand straight.

Finn does a quick sweep of my apartment while I take off my boots and coat. It’s not until he’s back in the main living area that I notice the present sitting on the counter.

“Did you put that there?” I ask, nodding to it.

Finn frowns. “Why the fuck would I get you a present?” Then he takes the box and shakes it. “This wasn’t here when you left this morning?”

“No, I—”

“Oh! Oh, I know what this is. Elliot texted me about it. For you.” Finn shoves the box into my hands.

I stare at the present, admiring the pretty dark red wrapping paper. “They got me a gift?”

“I think you know the answer to that. Now, I’m gonna get out of here. If that’s a sex toy or something, I have no desire to be around when you pull it out of that box.”

My body floods with heat. “Thanks for walking me home.”

He nods. “You’re not planning on going anywhere tonight? And I mean anywhere. Even if it’s just a walk to get some fresh air.”

“No, I’m staying in.”

“Good. You should be perfectly safe in here.” He points to my front door. “But if you step into that hallway, it should be with me by your side. Even if you’re getting something from a fucking vending machine or going to the laundry room or whatnot. Your boys aren’t paying me to watch over you in this tiny matchbox of an apartment, but if you leave, you’re my responsibility. Got it?”

I nod, mind whirring. For some reason, I didn’t realize they’d hired Finn to keep me safe. They made it sound like it was a favor or something.

“I’m staying close by,” he says. “If you notice anything even remotely suspicious, call me. You won’t be bugging me. Again, I’m getting paid very well for this.”

“Got it. Call you if there’s anything suspicious.”

“Anything remotely suspicious.”

“Or if I leave the apartment.”

“Good to know you pay attention. See you in the morning.” Finn makes sure the doorknob is locked before leaving.

Once I’m alone, I set the present on the kitchen counter and carefully unwrap it. Once I see what’s inside, my heart skips a beat.

Where’s my phone? Oh my god, where’s my phone?

I run to my coat, searching the pockets until I find it. Then I scroll through my notifications, hoping I’m not too late.

Oliver: Just landed. Miss you already.

He sent it twenty minutes ago. They should still have service, right?

I hit the call button, praying that he’ll pick up.

“Hey, princess. Everything okay?”

“Oliver!”

There must be something in my voice that clues him in to what I’m feeling, because he chuckles. The sound is warm and comforting, almost like he’s here next to me. “I take it you got your gift.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” I whisper, moving back to the counter.

“Ell made sure it’s the same edition as your old copy. We know it can’t really replace the one you had from high school, but—”

“Oliver. It’s perfect.”

Gently, I take the book out of its box. When Adam destroyed my copy of A Tale of Two Cities, I was heartbroken. This… this was so thoughtful of them.

“I’m glad you like it,” Oliver says.

“I wish I could kiss you,” I say, hugging the book to my chest. My heart feels so incredibly full.

Is this what it’s like when people love you the way you need to be?

“Soon, princess. When we’re back, you can kiss me as much as you want.” There’s a pause, and I hear one of the other guys say something I can’t make out. Then, “Rhett says we have to share.”

I giggle. “I think we can manage that.”

Oliver can’t stay on the phone, so we reluctantly hang up. I flip through the pages of my book, laughing when I see a note on the front page.

So you don’t forget us.

“As if I ever could,” I murmur.

After setting the book on the counter, I take a shower and then flop onto my bed. The past two weeks have taken their toll on me, and I’m exhausted. I need to eat, but my bed is so damn comfy. So I scroll through all the notifications on my phone, clearing most of them. There are only a couple that catch my eye—a missed call from my mom and two text messages.

Mom: We need to talk.

Mom: I wish you’d stop ignoring me.

I roll my eyes, swiping the notifications away. She still hasn’t apologized for last Tuesday. Not only did she lie and say we’d be meeting for dinner alone, but she brought Thomas. A man she knows I have no desire to ever see again in my life. And it’s not just that he was there, either. It was the whole damn intervention. I just want to live my own life the way I want to—whatever that ends up looking like.

After a couple more minutes in bed, my stomach growls ferociously, so I get up and toss a tank top and shorts on. Then, in the kitchen, I throw my phone onto the counter and start rummaging around for food. My gaze snags on the dishes Oliver took me shopping to get, and I can’t help but smile. It was a sweet gesture.

I wish they were here with me right now.

With a sigh, I open up the fridge. The thought of cooking an entire meal sounds like way too much effort right now, but I really need to. It’ll give me leftovers for the weekend.

Just as I start prepping some food, there’s a knock on my front door. I freeze, a bag of baby carrots dangling from my hand. It’s extremely rare that one of my neighbors needs something.

There’s another knock. “Maintenance,” a male voice calls out.

That’s odd. I always get at least a twenty-four-hour notice if maintenance needs to get into the apartment.

Setting the carrots on the counter, I tiptoe to my door and peer through the peephole. The man is wearing a uniform, and he has one of the carts our maintenance guys use to lug stuff around, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. I’ve read enough action novels to know how easy it is to get your hands on stuff like that.

I grab my phone to text Finn, but before I even have anything typed out, the man says, “It’s an emergency, ma’am. I have a key from the building manager, and he said I have permission to come in if you’re not home.”

My heart skips a beat. The building manager is a woman.

This isn’t good.

The doorknob jiggles, and I hear a key being inserted into the lock.

This is, in fact, very bad.

I give up on texting Finn and hit the call button.

He answers on the first ring. “Wren? Everything okay?”

“No, there’s—” My chest squeezes as the man steps through the door.

“Put the phone down,” he snaps. There’s a gun in his hand now.

“Who is that?” Finn demands. “You’re still at home?”

“Now,” the man barks, pulling his shoulders back and standing at his full height—which is very, very tall.

I drop it just as he slams the door shut.

Finn’s shouting voice sounds from my phone, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

“What do you want?” Carefully, I back into the kitchen and move around the island so there’s a barrier in between us.

“You’ll do what I say, and you’ll do it without questioning me.”

Like hell I will.

There’s no way he’ll use that gun in here. There’s no silencer attached, and it would be loud enough that half of the people in the building would probably hear and call the authorities. He’d never get away clean.

It’s just an intimidation tactic—much like the ones Thomas uses. Maybe that line of thinking is stupid. But maybe it’s what’s going to get me out of this situation alive.

“You sound a lot like my stepdad,” I say.

The man frowns.

“He thinks he’s a lot scarier than he is, too.”

Enraging my potential kidnapper-slash-murderer is probably a bad idea. I think back to last Tuesday, to when Oliver told me I needed to work on my self-preservation instincts.

Fuck, maybe he’s right.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” the man spits out. “You’re coming with me.”

He raises his gun, pointing it directly at my head. I don’t move, instead crossing my arms and leaning against the counter behind me.

Finally—finally—I start to freak out. If he wants me to come with him, then at least he wants me alive. Whoever he is. But what happens after that?

Does he want revenge on the guys? Or is he going to use me as leverage for something? Or is it possibly not connected at all? And how the hell am I going to fight him off?

Rhett has only had the chance to go over basic self-defense moves with me. Going up against a man who looks like he’s an enforcer of some type doesn’t sound smart to me.

Before I can fully figure out what to do, he’s moving toward me, shoving his gun into the waistband of his jeans. Panic floods my system when he pulls a syringe from his coat pocket.

“What is that?”

As he rounds the counter, I back away, grabbing the knife I was planning on using to cut up some vegetables. It goes against the advice Rhett gave me, but I’m counting on this guy wanting to keep me alive.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“What, you think I’m just going to come willingly?” I make a slash at his arm when he reaches toward me, but I miss.

He grabs his gun again. “Put it down.”

I freeze. Shit. Is he actually going to shoot?

He steps closer, and I realize that I’ve subconsciously lowered the knife a few inches.

Fuck. I have no idea what to do. Maybe I can—

He takes another step closer, and before I really think it through, I lunge forward. The knife cuts into his arm, but it barely phases him. Before I can pull back, I feel a sharp prick in my neck. He grabs my wrist and slams it against the counter.

The knife clatters to the floor as the first wave of drowsiness crashes over me. I stumble backward, but the man grabs me. My struggles are weak as the drug takes over. When my knees give out, he drags me toward the door.

The last thing I remember thinking is that I should’ve gone with the guys.

***

Harsh light filters through my eyelids, and I bring my hands over my eyes. I’m on a hard surface, and it feels like someone’s been hitting my head with a hammer.

Where am I?

When I finally open my eyes, panic sets in.

I’m in an empty room, lying on the wood floor in a corner. The overhead light is on, which is killing my eyes, but I’m glad for it. Otherwise, I would’ve woken up in the dark.

Slowly, I climb to my feet, leaning against the wall for support. There are two windows on the one wall, but it’s pitch-black outside, so I can’t see where I am.

I move to the first of three doors in here. It leads to an empty closet, and the second to a small bathroom. I catch my reflection in the mirror, and I wince. I look like I’ve been through hell. And on top of that, there’s blood on my tank top.

How the hell did that get there?

Back in what seems to be a bedroom, I try to open the third door. It doesn’t budge, like it’s locked from the outside.

Fuck. Fuck. What’s going on?

“Let me out,” I yell, wincing at the way it makes my head pound.

I try the door again, pulling harder, but it still doesn’t move. With a groan, I sink to the floor and rest my head in my hands.

Think. Think! I was about to make myself dinner, and then… Nothing.

I hear movement below me. Voices—gruff, deep, and angry. Then the pounding of footsteps, coming higher, closer.

Shit.

As there’s movement on the other side of the door, I scramble to my feet. When it opens, an angry man steps through, followed by two burly men dressed in all black. Something about the first guy is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place how or why exactly.

“You’re awake.”

The world is spinning—I must’ve gotten up too fast. Carefully, I back up until I’m leaning against the far wall.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asks.

I shake my head.

He smiles, but there’s nothing welcoming about it. “I know who you are. Wren Taylor, the unfortunate soul who happened to catch the attention of three men who, apparently, don’t care enough to keep you safe.”

I clench my fists behind my back. “Who’re you?”

“Jordan Williams.”

Williams. Edgar Williams’ son?

No, Oliver said he didn’t have any children.

Maybe another nephew?

“And what do you want, Jordan Williams?” Somehow I manage to keep the shaking in my voice to an imperceptible minimum. I’m honestly not sure how, because there’s only one thing Jordan could want, and it has me feeling sick to my stomach.

“Your three boyfriends killed my brother. And my uncle, although I never cared much for the bastard.”

I bite my lip, staying silent. Did the guys slip up somehow? Edgar and Tyler’s deaths made the news, but the authorities said they were still trying to figure out who was behind it.

“Ask me how I know, Wren. Ask me how I know it was them.”

“How?”

Jordan smiles at my obedience. “There are many people who wanted my uncle dead. His empire spans nations, and everyone wanted a piece of his power. But there’s one man who would’ve benefited the most from my uncle’s fall. His top competitor, especially in Philadelphia. Ludo Holloway.”

“Sounds like a bit of a stretch.” I shrug, hoping the bored expression I’ve crafted is working. Jordan’s assumptions may be correct, but it doesn’t sound like he actually knows—just that he’s made some educated guesses. If I can convince him he’s wrong…

“Ludo loves killing for sport. Everyone’s heard the rumors by now. But when it comes to business, he doesn’t mess around. You know who his go-to hitmen are?”

I shake my head, gulping when Jordan steps closer. His hot, stale breath hits my face as he laughs.

“I think you do, Wren.”

“No.”

“Your three boyfriends. They never fail, you know. And with a job like this, Ludo would’ve wanted a guaranteed kill. To be honest, if I was in Holloway’s shoes, I would’ve hired them, too.”

Dread weighs heavy on my chest, and it feels like I can barely breathe. “You want revenge.”

“I don’t just want it, Wren. I’ll fucking get it.”

“But if you know who ordered the kill on your brother,” I say slowly, “why not get revenge on him?”

Jordan laughs. “You think I’m stupid? You think Ludo doesn’t have three or more bodyguards with him at all times? That he’s one of the smartest people on this goddamned planet? There’s no way I can get to him.

“But you? Well, your boyfriends decided to publicly declare to the people in our world that you’re theirs. And then they left you alone, completely defenseless. What was their logic? That no one would come after you this quickly?”

I almost laugh at my own stupidity. No, that was my logic.

Jordan continues, “Tyler stood to inherit everything that belonged to our uncle. But now that they’re both dead, everything falls to me. Ludo thinks I’m an easy target. He’s wrong. Any day now, he’ll try to make a deal with me. He’ll frame it as a business arrangement. Probably call it a mutually beneficial agreement. Do you think that’s the truth, Wren?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Good answer. He thinks I’m na?ve. Gullible. He’ll offer me a partnership, maybe even a mentorship. And then he’ll try to pull the rug from underneath my feet. Do you think I’ll let him?”

I know very little about Ludo Holloway, other than what the guys have told me. He seems ruthless, which has led me to believe that Elliot, Rhett, and Oliver are as well. I’ve seen them work, even if it was only a glimpse. And if they’re going up against Ludo, they have to match—no, outmatch—who he is to defeat him.

As for Jordan, all I see is anger and insecurity. So yeah, I could easily imagine Ludo pulling one over on him. But I’m not stupid enough to say that out loud.

“Of course you won’t.”

Jordan grins. “Another good answer. Ludo thinks nothing of me now, but just you wait. He’ll watch me take my place at the head of the Williams empire. He’ll watch me make it the greatest it’s ever been. He’ll regret ever killing my family. And more importantly, he’ll regret ever underestimating me.”

I shift from one foot to the other. I’d be lying if I said I cared about Jordan’s plans to prove himself and to become more powerful. No, what I want to know is what he’s going to do with me.

“You can’t get revenge on Ludo, so you’re going to… what, exactly? Kill me to get revenge on the guys?”

“Eventually. But they won’t be walking away from this alive, either. I’ll get them one by one and bring them here. How do you think they’ll react when I drive a knife through your heart while I make them watch? Or when I hold your head under water until you pass out? I’ll make them watch you die slowly from a lack of oxygen while they’re helpless to stop me.”

The weight on my chest is crushing me now—enough that I can’t even respond. They’ll find me, right? Rhett said they would.

“Now. Tell me why I texted Elliot an hour ago that I have his precious woman, and he hasn’t even bothered to respond.”

I hesitate. Should I tell him the truth? That Elliot isn’t able to receive text messages? Maybe it’d buy me more time.

“They don’t have service.”

“What?” Jordan snaps.

“They’re not in Philly.”

“Fuck,” he shouts. “That’s not how this was supposed to work. Tell me where they went.”

I shake my head.

“You really want me to start your torture early?” Jordan steps up to me, his arms crossed over his chest. “Because I will.”

“I don’t know where they are,” I manage. “They didn’t tell me.”

Jordan’s eyes narrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth,” I whisper.

“We’ll see if you’re still singing that same tune when I’m finished with you.” Before I can reply, Jordan turns to face his men, pointing at me. “Grab her.”

“No.” I back into the far corner, but there’s nowhere for me to run.

They each take hold of one of my arms, dragging me toward the bathroom. Jordan is already in there, plugging the bathtub and turning on the water.

“No,” I screech, kicking at his men. Rhett hasn’t taught me how to fight against two assailants yet, but I’m not above trying to figure it out on my own. I can’t let them get me any closer to that tub.

“Calm her down,” Jordan shouts over the running water, tapping his foot impatiently. “She’s going to give me a headache.”

One of them claps a hand over my mouth. His fingers cover my nostrils too, cutting off my air supply. It causes me to thrash around even more, trying to get free.

“Stay still,” he growls in my ear, “and I’ll let you breathe.”

I bite his hand.

“Shit,” he yells, yanking it away.

I spit his blood out of my mouth, jutting my elbow backward until it sinks into his stomach. But the other guy shoves me forward, and then I’m tripping and falling to my knees in front of Jordan.

He grabs my hair, yanking me to the tub’s edge. There’s already at least half a foot of water in it, and it’s rising quickly. I try to scramble away, but he blocks me in.

“Record this,” he says to his men. “I’ll send it to Elliot. Fucker deserves it.”

My next attempt to get away from the tub is met with Jordan grabbing me and shoving me down.

“No,” I shout, holding onto the edge of the tub to steady myself.

Jordan knocks my hands away easily. I barely have time to get in air before my face is submerged in the water. Everything I do to try to get my head above the surface is met with Jordan holding me down more.

When he finally lets me up, I gasp for air.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” I insist.

I’m only able to get in one breath before he shoves me down again.

The water is freezing, and Jordan is pushing my body into the edge of the tub in a painful way. I try to brace my hands on the opposite side and push myself back, but someone grabs my arms and wrenches them behind me.

No, no, no. I need air. I need—

Jordan yanks me up. I gulp in air as water streams from my hair down my body, soaking my clothes. Standing, Jordan knocks me to the ground.

“Maybe once they get these videos,” Jordan grumbles, “your men will think twice before crossing a Williams.”

“Fuck you,” I manage in between coughs.

Jordan doesn’t acknowledge me. “Keep her locked in here. And get me a different tub. It’s too fucking crowded in here.”