Bound by Blood (The Contract Book 3) (6 page)

Dr. Winslow

I sit in the shadows on a chair I have placed here for the express purpose of watching her. She is cuddled up in a blanket and holding a teddy bear that I gave her. She looks as though she is feeling right at home.

I’m conflicted. This research was initially done to prove she would bond with me even under the most horrific of circumstances and, true to form, she has just like I knew she would. The problem is that I have too. I have to admit the probability of that happening never entered my thought processes. Being a child prodigy has its perks, but it also comes with its own set of issues. One of these drawbacks is the fact that my emotions are turned off. At least, they were until now.

I don’t want to kill this woman. This poses a problem because as soon as she goes to the police and tells them I kidnapped her, everything I have worked for will be gone. On one hand, I can’t count on her being bonded enough to not turn me in to the authorities but on the other, I can’t see myself killing her either. What was I thinking? I’m not a killer. I have never carried those traits, never had the desire to take someone’s life. Thoughts of having Trent do it, in exchange for me signing off on his psychological evaluation, cross my mind but, to put it bluntly, I’m scared of him. Anyone whose girlfriend nicknames him the
Executioner
can’t be a safe, sane individual to deal with.

For the first time in my life, I am, for lack of a better term, mentally stumped. This is the reason I haven’t had sex with this girl; I knew it would cloud my thinking. I can’t remember a time I have ever been confused. Decisions are made quickly in my line of work. I’m decisive and unemotional by nature.

She’s still in a dirty and now tattered dress. I purpose in my mind to buy her a new one. I’ll have to go to a thrift store, wear somewhat of a disguise, and pay in cash. We live in a big brother society where cameras watch our every move.

She begins to stir and open her eyes. When she realizes I’m seated in the shadows, she turns to the front of the cage, eyeing me expectantly as she holds onto the bars. She’s looking at me as if I hold all the answers to the universe and, in a sense, I guess I do. At least I do in her universe.

She waits, saying nothing and just looking at me. A wave of sadness washes over me as I notice how at peace she has become since she has come to terms with her predicament. Why am I sad? Isn’t this what I wanted?

Suddenly world renowned fame doesn’t seem so important or glamorous. I’ve never fit in anywhere. I was always the youngest in school, dubbed ‘the walking encyclopedia’ for my extensive vocabulary. I was beyond socially awkward and my emotions are practically nonexistent.

I get up, slowly make my way over to the cage, and bend down so that I am eye level with my captive. I rub my thumb over the fingers she has firmly wrapped around one of the bars of her cage.

“What size dress do you wear?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

“What do you know?”

“I know this is the first time in my life someone has ever wanted me…”

When I hear her response, the wave of sadness I felt just moments ago becomes a tsunami of emotion. Whether I like it or not, I know with absolute certainty that I have bonded with my captive.

Miller

I lay in bed watching her nap and letting my mind wander. I’ve been the biggest prick known to man trying to purposely drive her away and she still refuses to back down.

It isn’t that I want her out of my life. On the contrary, that isn’t going to happen because I would never let her go. What I am trying to do is solidify in both our minds that this is the type of lifestyle she wants.

I have to admit that she has surprised me. In the past, she would have been someone I would have pegged as most likely not to succeed at being a hit woman. She has shattered every preconceived notion I had of her. She’s tough as nails, thinks quick on her feet, presses on through the fear that comes with the job, and she’s hot as hell. Being hot doesn’t just work for me in the bedroom, it works luring my marks in too. There isn’t a man alive that wouldn’t follow her out of a bar and up to a hotel suite. Working with a woman definitely has its advantages.

I was shocked when she came out of whack-a-doo doc’s house with a cell phone pic of that woman in a cage. Anyone else would have panicked and escaped the place as soon as he left for the second time, but not my girl. She fought through her fear and did what had to be done.

I know I’m being old-fashioned, as old-fashioned as a killer can be anyway. I want her home behind closed doors for one reason and one reason only: she’s safe here. I’m doing everything in my power to make her give up on working with me but she is meeting every challenge I throw her way.

This girl—my girl—has everything she needs to be successful in our line of work. It all boils down to one thing: she has heart. She has this inherent goodness that can’t be taught to a trainee. It is an innate thing for her. Like a lion is born with courage and heart, for Stormy it is instinctive and natural as well. She is one the gutsiest people I have ever met. It confuses the hell out of me how a former agoraphobic can be so ballsy. I believe exactly what she said; she chose to lock herself away from the world because she wanted to disconnect. Now she is choosing to pass every test I throw at her because she wants to be a killer. Why would any woman want to be a killer?

Is it that, or is it the desire to work with me and know my world? Whatever it is, one thing is certain. When Stormy Dawn Weathers makes up her mind to do something, anyone would be hard pressed to change it.

Whether I like it or not, agree to it or resist it, she is not going to be moved. A smile crosses my face as a sense of pride courses through me. She has gone far above and beyond what I ever believed her to be capable of and I am proud of
my girl…

Black Rose

I look up to view the temporary secretary I currently employ eying me as I run my hand through my wavy, copper colored hair. The funny thing about it is… lately, there is only one woman I care to have more than a mere sex fest with and that is the woman I have religiously stalked.

I rise from my desk, in the mood for a good ‘mind-fucking session,’ and I make my way towards the temp. I latch my hands to the back of her chair and lean down, whispering into her ear, “You’re looking at me like you need to be fucked and you want me to do it. Shame on you for lusting after your boss.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” the poor girl stammers, baffled by my blatant demeanor.

“Shh, don’t talk, listen. Now, normally I don’t fuck the help but with you being a mere temp, I might just decide to detour from my normal policies. If I choose to do so, I will inform you of that decision. Tsk, tsk, don’t turn around. You’re at work. Keep those fingers on that keyboard. That’s what I’m paying you for.”

I turn and exit the office, leaving the temp in a twofold predicament. Of course she’s wondering what
just
happened but it’s probably also mixed with the sinister feeling of being out of control because she hasn’t an inkling of what is
going
to happen. I put the question of will he, or won’t he, in her pretty little head and I’m the only one who can answer it for her. I bask in the feeling of control, of knowing I’ll be in her head for the rest of the day. The enjoyment I receive isn’t about her; it never is about the woman. It is, and always will be, about the mind-fuck. I thoroughly enjoy getting inside a woman’s psyche and playing. It’s fun—nothing more, nothing less. The cherry on top is knowing she will hate herself for hoping I’ll call her just to use her. Of course, she will lie to herself and create convincing arguments in her head that maybe, just maybe, she is the one woman who will change me from my bad boy ways. I’ll go ahead and answer that question for you. No, she is not!

Melanie

I sit on the couch, watching Tommy play and trying to wrap my brain around the enigma that is Charles. Baffled would be the only word to describe how I feel right now. The only men…well, man, I have any type of experience with is Tommy’s dad. The look on Charles’ face when I told him that was a cross between jealousy and contempt. I liked it.

I’m no different than any other single mother. If you love my child, you have already won me over. Tommy is my world as he has been the only thing good in it. He is the reason we’re here, or at least part of it. The rest I can’t figure out.

I was so flustered when I went back up to get him from Josephine’s that I waited behind the curtain, half hidden, until I saw Charles leave. Though I was hidden from view, he looked at the window and paused for just a second after he pulled out onto the street. It was as if he knew I was there. Logically, I knew he couldn’t possibly have seen me but I still backed away as if he could. He makes me feel…well, scared. It’s an odd kind of fear that strikes a chord of curiosity in me. It reminds me of like when you’re a kid and there is that one house. You know, it’s the forbidden one in the neighborhood that all the neighbors avoid, the one with all the nightmarish stories about it. The tales are always the same no matter where you grew up: someone was killed in it, an old hermit lives there, there’s man who kills and eats children hiding in the basement… that kind of stuff. Still, that house calls to you, beckoning you to explore all its forbidden secrets if only you’re brave enough.

I get up and make my way back over to the computer to investigate him for the umpteenth time. I have to know who this man is and why he wants me here. I keep an eye on Tommy as I wait for it to boot up. Of course it doesn’t take long because it is top of the line, just like everything else he has provided for me. Everything is impeccable which fits his personality to a tee. Just one more thing to add to the long list of reasons I feel inadequate in his perfect world. I really don’t fit in here.

I scroll through the articles and feel a twinge of jealousy viewing all the
perfect
women in his
perfect
world. There are two reasons I stay here: Tommy and fear. I will never forget the look on his face when he
suggested
I not go back to my old apartment. All he had said was he would be very displeased but wasn’t his words that scared me, it was his energy.

I have spent my life growing up in the streets and having to read people in order to survive. Even after being exposed to all of that, I can honestly say this man is by far the most dangerous individual I have ever been subjected to. I will admit though, crazy as it sounds, there is a small, rebellious part of me that wants to cross him just a little bit… just to see what he will do. The other part of me, obviously the much smarter part with better survival skills, is more reserved… well, scared to be honest.

I’m going to have to use everything I have learned in the streets to deal with this menacing stranger. I don’t want to leave because Tommy is in the best living situation he has ever been in and, whether I want to admit it or not, I am too. I have known women in the past who would look for men like Charles and latch onto them for the sole purpose of using them. I chuckle at the thought and Tommy chuckles with me as if he knows what I’m thinking. The notion that Charles Wentworth the 3
rd
would fall prey to any woman, no matter how shrewd, is absolutely ludicrous. He is too smart, too worldly, and much too dangerous to ever let a woman use him for his money.

Though I’m not a gold-digger, I cannot contest that being poor is hard. I won’t deny wanting better for my son than what I had. There’s also the fact that, whether I want to admit it or not, I’m attracted to a man I can never truly have. Staying here and keeping things in perspective isn’t going to be an easy feat. I’m dealing with matters of the heart and a rich playboy—not a good combination by any stretch of the imagination. I make up my mind and strengthen my resolve to not get attached. The best and only way I can think of to do that is to resist him. The only question is…how do I resist a man who not only desires my obedience, but demands it?