Kiss Me in the Dark Anthology - Monica James Page 0,4

behind me is still arguing, which will give me the opportunity to jump from the terrace and call for help. Adrenaline soars through my veins, and I can taste it at the back of my throat. Just as I boost myself up, about to spring for safety, a warm hand grips my bicep, dragging me back.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” His hoarse, honeyed breath bathes the back of my neck, and I know he’s close. When his chest presses against my back, I’m hit with a combination of smells—spicy, sweet, and floral.

“Please let me go,” I whimper, attempting to feign innocence. I hope he falls for it because then I’m going to fight with all my might.

He doesn’t.

“You’re coming with us. Move.” He’s American.

“My hu-husband is upstairs,” I plead. Shrugging from his hold, I keep my gaze forward because if I don’t see him, he won’t have to kill me.

“That’s nice for your husband,” he quips while I feel the walls beginning to close in on me. “Now move.” He tugs at my right arm without any real force, but another hand rips at my left, almost tearing my shoulder from my socket.

Tears of pain sting my eyes as I feel like I’m being torn apart by a savage dog. “Put this on!” Russian number one shouts. “Bitch, I said put it on!”

My fight gives way to flight because I am suddenly scared.

“No, please, no,” I beg, but when I’m spun around and forced to face all three of them, I know this isn’t optional.

My brain can’t seem to process what’s going on because standing before me in paradise are three men in ski masks. This place is not meant for such a sight, but they don’t seem to appreciate the beauty. One steps forward and slaps me so hard across the cheek, I taste blood. This can’t be happening.

“Won’t ask again,” he snarls as he attempts to shove a gag into my mouth, and I know the thick black pillowcase hanging from his hand will be next.

Memories of Kenny shoving me into the carpet and my air being siphoned off by his large hand smash into me, and I sway, instantly gripping the first solid thing I can find, which just happens to be the hulking bicep of one of my captors.

The warmth through his long-sleeved T-shirt burns me. Slowly peering up, I lock eyes with him and am confronted with an unusual shade of green with swirls of warm amber. The color of his eyes are akin to a bottle of chartreuse. Out here in the pitch black, they glow…like a predator.

The thought has me quickly severing our connection.

The Russians are losing patience with me because when I don’t bend to their demands, another attempt is made to shove a white cloth into my mouth.

“Please, don’t gag me,” I say. Holding my hands up in surrender, I hope they see reason. They don’t.

Just as Russian number two rears back to pistol-whip me, the American’s arm shoots out in lightning-quick speed and grips his wrist in warning. I have no idea why he just saved me, but that doesn’t matter because Drew suddenly appears.

“What the fuck?” he curses as he frantically attempts to make sense of what he’s seeing. “Who are you?”

“Drew, run!” I scream, lunging forward, but the move is my last as I’m slapped once again. I stagger backward, gasping for air and cradling my cheek, but I still manage to slur, “Run.”

Drew rushes forward, but he doesn’t stand a chance when the American advances and slams his fist into Drew’s jaw. Drew stumbles backward, dazed and confused. The American doesn’t show him any mercy as he pushes him onto the floor and commences to beat the hell out of him.

He drops to one knee and pins Drew by his shoulder as he raises his fist over and over again. I scream, begging for mercy for my husband, but there is none. The American towers over Drew, and even though he’s donned in head-to-toe black, it’s evident he’s in good shape.

Drew doesn’t stand a chance.

Although tears cloud my vision, I still attempt to save Drew, but Russian number two is sick of my disobedience. He raises his gun, and this time, he pistol-whips me. The world spins on its axis before I hit the deck.

I’m floating in and out of consciousness, but I’m certain I see Drew’s lips move. I can’t make out what he’s saying, though. The American punches him one last time before