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Page 6 of Power and Possession

Muscular arms grabbed me from behind, folding my arms down into my body, as I was tightly restrained.

“Let me go, you asshole!” I screamed profanities, hit and kicked. I brought my left foot down and stomped as hard as I could on the foot of my attacker. The strong arms released me for a moment, and I turned and raced for the front door.

Suddenly, my back was up against the wall of my hallway, and my head made contact with the rough brick behind me. Piercing blue eyes bore deep into my soul, and then everythingwent black.

Chapter Four

Steele

Cooper swore at me as the medic stitched him up. He stood in the living room of my townhome, dripping blood onto my priceless seventeenth century Persian rug. I watched the sticky liquid pool on one of the expertly woven leaves before I glared at him. I’d need to have Swanson come and get those stains out. He was the only one I’d let touch the few treasures I kept in my possession, and his restoration work was the best in the business.

“Steele, what the fuck? Why the hell was she armed? It was like she knew we were coming for her.”

I gave him a lethal stare. “It was your idea to use the brat against her father. Not my fault if you let her get the better of you. You were the one keeping tabs on her. She obviously thought something was going on.”

Cooper grimaced as the needle pierced his side, and he looked at me while the doctor tied off the suture. “Where is the little minx?”

I shuffled my feet, my right foot a little sensitive after the idiotic girl had stomped on it. Without meaning to, a small smile played on my lips as I took in the damage she’d done to Cooper. He wasn’t seriously injured, but, bollocks, she put up a fight. Like a cat backed into an alleyway, she lashed out and used everything she could to try and escape. But there was no use, not when she was dealing with the biggest dog in the country.

“Quincy took her down to the basement. She should be out for quite a while. The sedative I gave her after she lost consciousness should keep her under.” I nodded to the doctor. “You will check on her before you leave.” I didn’t need her dying before I could taunt her capture to Topher. Or even Harrington. I loved possessing what other people wanted. Perhaps I could get Harrington to pay for her as well…she would be worth double.

The doctor nodded, understanding I wasn’t asking, but commanding. As long as I continued to pay him an absurd amount of money, he’d take my secrets to his grave. I had a small medic team on call 24/7, mostly brilliant doctors who were refugees from their own country and didn’t have the proper documentation to work legally. They appreciated the money, and I kept them in line by threatening to turn them over to whatever dictator or warlord they escaped from. It worked out well.

I strolled over to the handsome wooden bookshelf and pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Filling each to the brim, I walked back towards Cooper and handed him one as the doctor placed a large gauzy patch over the cleaned and stitched-up wound.

“To revenge,” I said, raising my glass towards Cooper and then sitting on the black leather sofa.

“Sweet revenge,” he agreed, and we both drank deep.

Chapter Five

Ashlynn

Bright lights flickered above my head. My mind swam as I tried to remember where I was. My little flat? My bedroom at the penthouse in New York? The guest room at the Harrington Estate?

I shivered as my eyes focused and the light fixtures came into view. Big rows of fluorescent lights hummed above me, the noise fighting for dominance over the pounding in my head.

Where was I?

The back of my scalp felt tender. I tried to reach my hand up, only to find I was chained to a bed. Instantly, the fight in my apartment came flooding back and I cried out and jerked, suddenly realizing my legs were shackled, too. A whimper escaped my lips, and I looked around as much as I could despite my bondage.

I was chained to some kind of metal bed, similar to what I imagined furnished the cells of prisons. The sheet on the rough mattress rubbed against my legs, and I looked down to see that I was still in my tank top and shorts. At least I was clothed. Barefoot, but untouched.

But…what was happening? Why was I taken? I felt myself start to hyperventilate, remembering all the warnings and stories I read about young American women being trafficked all across Europe. Was this my fate? To be used and abused until my body gave out?

“No…” I mumbled, tugging on my bindings, the panic rising in me like an unexpected high tide.

“Yes,” a masculine voice whispered from behind me, andI cried out in panic at the realization that I wasn’t alone. I tried to turn my head towards the sound, but the slight jostling from the movement caused stars to flash across my vision and nausea to flood my senses. Bile threatened to make its way up my throat, and I half-choked, half gasped.

“I must say, you put up quite a fight.” The voice came again, smooth like glass, carefully modulated, but utterly terrifying. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous. His tone held an air of dominance, yet bridled and calculating. His accent was hard to place, somewhat British, but not quite. More of an old-fashioned transatlantic pitch which was odd, almost as though his very pattern of speech was an added layer of mystery. I adjusted my view, and I could just make out his dark figure from the left corner of my eye.

“Who the hell are you?” I growled, trying to sound as formidable as possible. Growing up in a high-rise didn’t mean that I didn't have to assert myself from time to time, standing up to creeps who came on to me on the subway or jerks who thought the phrase “good night” meant “try harder.” I struggled with the chains again, the metal cutting into my wrists.

“That’s none of your business, Miss Phillips.”

He knew my name. This wasn’t just a random abduction. My father’s disappearance, and now this? Did this man take my father too? Rage boiled within me, and I felt every single muscle in my body tighten in seething anger.

“Did you hurt my father?” I clenched my teeth together, the pressure adding to the pain in my head.




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