Page 11 of Stockholm (Angel of Mercy #1)

The Kept

T he clock ticks painfully slow. After the upheaval of the last week, I’m ready to get home. Eager to make something delicious for dinner from my vegetable garden, sip coffee on the deck and listen to the birds.

Something simple. Easy.

This last week has not been easy. With Eric gone, the center of my world is absent, and I’d apparently scrambled to fill it with the first distraction that came my way. The fiercely gorgeous man who had looked at me like I’m something to be devoured.

Not just an angel, but a woman . A real blood and bone woman—not an idea or a toy.

Be honest , I think to myself. Not just any man would have captivated my thoughts like this. It’s because he’s… him . Strong, confident. The way there’s a small injection of fear to my body when I see him, and yet no part of me feels unsafe.

He looks like he could handle anything.

I shake my head, trying to loosen these thoughts from my mind. Maybe it’s a good thing this is my last day at the bank. Eric’s right, staying at home might be best. I can barely recognize myself after the past week.

“This taco tastes like shit,” Bo says from the other end of the counter.

His aviator sunglasses are pulled down over his eyes., his curly hair hanging messily as it falls over the rim. As he told it, his date went on late into the night. And by date I mean him taking Jesse back to his apartment and getting to know each other .

I snicker at him. “Do you want me to make you some coffee?”

He nods. “Please, I’ll love you forever.”

As soon as I move to slide off the stool, the bell rings for the door. My breath evaporates from my chest when I see Dean pulling it open.

He’s sauntering toward me when I realize I’m smiling at him and I clear my throat, looking back up at him with a more professional expression. “Hey, uh—Eric won’t be in til Monday, remember?.

He leans forward, getting close enough that it overwhelms me. “I know. That’s why I’m here today.”

I blink at him. What do I say to that? Is he hitting on me? “I’m not sure there’s anything I can help you with. We’re about to close in a few minutes.”

“Perfect,” he says, standing to his full height and wiping the friendly expression from his face. What remains is cold. Detached. “You can lock up and wipe the cameras. Both of you put your hands on the counter and announce your movements before you make them.”

The bell sounds again. My mouth falls open in shock when I dare to look away from Dean to see Jesse’s green hair peeking out from a black hoodie. He winks at me, a wicked smirk taking over his face, before he turns to Bo and places a handgun on the counter.

“Pull the surveillance,” he directs, looking directly into Bo’s stunned face. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

Bo turns to me, his hands glued to the counter and face draining of color.

Jesse reaches over to him and gently pulls the sunglasses off his face and puts them in his own hoodie pocket.

“Eyes on me, Bo,” he says, and Bo listens, despite the confusion radiating off of him.

“That’s better,” Jesse says, picking up the gun. “I’m right behind you.”

Bo turns for the office, Jesse right behind him and my heart feels like it will fly out of my chest. My jaw clenches tightly and I swing back to Dean. “Is he going to hurt him? What is wrong with you?”

There’s not a single change to his expression. The playfulness from his first trip into the bank is completely absent. “Nobody will get hurt as long as both of you listen. Now, I want you to grab your purse, and give me the keys for the front door.”

I shake my head. “Are you insane? There are cameras. Eric will know it was you if I go missing. He’ll come after us.”

Dean looks at me, condescension heavy on his face. “Oh, will he come after me?” The barking laugh that follows makes me jump, and a wide smile spreads across his face. “Grab your keys and come with me now, or I’ll tell him to shoot Bo.”

Tears well behind my eyes, but I try not to let the fear overtake me. The shaking in my hands is the only thing I can’t seem to control and I drop them twice trying to separate the bank keys from my personal keyring.

“Both,” he says, taking all of them. “Jesse’s going to take your car. Now walk out to my truck with me and keep listening.”

I freeze. I’ve always heard to never let an aggressor get you into their vehicle. You should always scream and fight because most women don’t make it to a second location.

Patiently, like we’re just having a chat about the weather, he tilts his head to the side and pulls a gun of his own from his back waistband and holds it down on the counter in front of me, finger on the trigger.

Numbness spreads through me, my legs starting to shake. I doubt they’ll get me to the truck anyway.

“Be a doll and listen, yeah? Get in the fucking truck. They’ll follow behind us.”

“I’m going to throw up.” I mumble, grabbing my bag. My stomach rolls, and I have to duck to vomit into the closest wastebasket. Dean waits patiently for me to finish, and I hear Bo and Jesse’s voice at the back of the building. He’s not dead at least.

Shaking, I stand and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Dean stares at me. “You pull off the innocent act so well. Bravo, Emma.”

I say nothing, because he’s pointing a gun at me. Side-stepping him, I feel his body close behind mine. He pushes the door open above my head, the sunshine and soft breeze tickling my face like nothing’s wrong. Like the entire universe hasn’t been flipped on its head.

“Keep going. Passenger side.”

I step up to the door and his looming body reaches over me to open it.

I lift myself into the seat. It smells like leather and his cologne in here and for some reason that detail is what pushes me over the edge, and the tears start to fall.

Just last night I’d remembered the smell of it in my dream.

You idiot . Fawning like a school girl over whatever monster this man actually is. The puzzle pieces fall into place as I realize there was no coincidence in him coming to the bank, to running into him at the bar with Bo.

Bo . Jesse must have been following him, stalking him online or something. I’m furious that he would take advantage of my friend like that.

Dean moves to grab something from the backseat and a moment later my vision goes black as something is wrapped around my eyes.

“Dean?” I cry, reaching out to the side where he’s been standing. Panic bubbles up in me. All my mind can picture is him aiming the gun at my head, preparing to pull the trigger.

My wrists are gripped together with a bruising force and pulled out straight in front of me where what feels like rope begins biting into my skin as it’s wrapped around them.

It digs into the leather bracelet Eric bought me.

Too tight. So tight that I cry out, and then I feel myself turned like I’m being tied off to something else.

The door handle?

“Please, why are you doing this? You can just take the money. I’ll never, ever tell anyone about you, I swear to god ,” I start babbling, tears falling and dampening the strip of fabric blocking my vision.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean snarls, so close to my ear that I jump, hitting my head on the back of the seat.

“Your blood money doesn’t have any sway over me.

Unfortunately, for once you’re dealing with someone who has morals—” He pauses, then cracks a laugh.

“Well, most of the time. I suppose that’s up for debate, but I do believe in making people pay for their sins.

And you and Eric? As guilty as they fucking come. ”