His Urge

#5

His Urge

by

Ana Fawkes

All Isabella Grace wants is to be in the arms of Jonathan Black. With Jonathan missing, she has no choice but to seek comfort in his father, who has a dark side that makes her shiver, even inside the warmth of his luxury cottage in the mountains.

With so many people looking for money, for revenge, and looking to destroy all Jonathan Black has and wants, there's no surprise that Isabella is not safe for long.

Will Jonathan Black's dominating world come crashing down? Will he have to leave Isabella Grace behind when the police discover the body back at the hotel? Or will the sexy billionaire find a way to honor his word to protect and command Isabella Grace for as long as he wants?

-1-

When the floodlight turned off, I was in the pitch black with a hand over my mouth and a warm body against me.  Whoever was behind me was catching their breath, the heavy warm air touching my neck.  As if fear was igniting their adrenaline.  Much like how I felt when Jonathan Black put his hands upon my tender body.

I needed him.

I looked forward into the darkness, knowing that Jonathan was somewhere ahead, in the front of the cottage, where I was told it looked nothing quite like the back and basement of the cottage which showed just how rich Jonathan Black’s father was and how unafraid he was to spend money.

Where was he now?

For a man with so much money, I cursed him for not having a better security system.

My instincts took over – or I should say, my new instincts, considering the new world I was exposed to (being tied up, handcuffed, and witness to murder) - and I swung my foot back. 

I hit the man holding me, but the kick did nothing.

He expected it.

I tried again, hoping to hit him between his legs, but by then he had himself protected.  His breath smelled horrible, almost vile enough that I could taste it.  He didn’t speak another word, but he didn’t need to.  What he had already said rang louder than anything else.

Isabella Grace... I saw everything.  Everything.

The world seemed to be stacking against Jonathan Black and in my pocket were routing and banking numbers allowing me to take three billion dollars.  It was the sum of money Jonathan Black had been ripped off from, thus sending him into the world of murder. 

I continued to kick and then twist, but it was useless.  The hold on my mouth was too much and the arm around me the same.  It wasn’t a sexual hold, nothing like what Jonathan Black could have and would have done to me.  The bitter cold air stung as my face turned hotter, burning in fear for my life.  But the fear for Jonathan’s life started to take over.  I could withstand being taken or murdered, but not without Jonathan knowing it.  Dying and knowing Jonathan was searching for me or thinking I listened to his father and left would be the worst death for me.

I started to bite and scream.  Biting was horrible and screaming came out as a murmur. 

All my twisting and body thrashing in the snow started to work.  I took a heavy step forward and the man came with me.  When I took another step, he came with me again.  I knew what I wanted out of this and once I was within range of the floodlight I started to jump.  The sudden movement allowed his hand to slide down just enough so I could bite one of his fingers.  His grip was quickly gone from my mouth and body.

A mild victory in a nightmarish war. 

The first thing I did was wave my arms and the light turned on.  The small flood of light was like the light of heaven for me.  I screamed for Jonathan and yes, I screamed for his father.  I needed someone, whoever could get to me first to help.  I didn’t care. 

With the light on, I needed to figure out what to do in the time it would take for help to come to me.  That meant facing my attempted capturer, which strangely wouldn’t be the first time I’d be doing that to.  It was impossible to think about how much my life had changed in such a short period of time. 

I spun around, unsure what I was going to do.  Maybe scream.  Maybe throw a fist.  Maybe just lunge at the man, hoping to fake him out.

None of those were viable options because when I spun around, there was nobody there.  I looked at nothing but the faint silhouettes of trees, standing like black pillars against the snowy mountain horizon. 

It couldn’t be, could it?

How could someone get away so fast?

“Hey!” I cried out.  My voice boomed, and it took me back to being in the car with Jonathan when he made me scream and punch the driver in the face. 

I hated that moment then but now, it seemed fun and exciting.

I stepped forward, but stopped myself.

The footprints.  That’s what I could use. 

I looked down and saw the remnants of the struggle I had with the man.  There were patches of grass and some snow, but I couldn’t make out that many prints.  There had to be prints when the man took off. 

There had to be.

Before I could take one step, I heard a rustling noise.  My body tensed.  The light behind me turned off.  The sound came again and again.  Someone was pushing through the thickness of the trees.  It was a terrible spot to be in, especially if someone was attempting to sneak upon me or the cottage.  Then again, maybe it was all part of the routine.  Maybe they were trying to scare the hell out of me so when they pounced...

I saw the outline of a figure.

Just standing there, fifteen feet away. 

The moon cast a very small light as the world continued to move.  Time was moving forward, whether I liked it or not.  Jonathan Black was attempting to collect the money stolen from him but I had the way to get it.  Oliver Rush was still dead, and maybe not even discovered yet.  His blood was on Jonathan’s hands and Jonathan’s hands were on my body... thus me being in the middle of such a thing. 

The figure started to move but it wasn’t normal movements.

They were extreme moves, sliding to the left, sliding to right.  At one point the figure slouched down a little and then popped up. 

Finally, the figure spoke.  The words were a mess because they were slurred.  Terribly slurred. 

Frustrated, I waved my hands again and turned the floodlights on, again.

There before me, walking like a zombie, came John Black, Jonathan’s father, dead drunk, head bouncing side to side. 

His eyes were huge and bloodshot and when he saw me, he smiled.

“The light takes me to you, Issssabella Grace.”

He reached out for me.  His perception was obviously shot to hell because we weren’t even close, and he fell forward.  I could have jumped towards him and maybe helped him, but I didn’t. 

John Black rubbed me the wrong way.  Not only did I hate his ego and arrogant way of spending his money, he confessed his love for me, begging me to leave Jonathan so I could be with him.  Not to mention he took the three billion dollars that Jonathan thought Oliver Rush took, which meant that the murder was without complete merit.

John crashed to his hands and knees, in the snow, and let out a grunting sound. 

He looked up at me and smiled.  “Why’d you back up?”

“I didn’t,” I said.  “Is the front door to the cottage locked?”  Was it a front door at all?  I thought about the back of the cottage and the section of ground that moved down, creating a ramp to the garage. 

Everything about Jonathan and his father was secretive.  They were holding onto skeletons tight and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Don’t go in there,” John said.  He tried to stand but fell again.  His hands were outspread, moving the snow all around. 

“Someone is out here,” I said.  “They tried to...”  What were they trying to do with me?  “...they touched me.  Then I got the light to turn on and they ran away, where you came from.”

“I came out to get you, love,” John said.  “Now help me up.  The snow is like ice.”

No, the snow wasn’t like ice.  John was just drunk.

I hated him.

I helped John back up and started to pull him towards the front of the cottage.

“No, no,” he said, “let my son go.  He’s working.  So hard.”  When he smiled I cringed.

“Someone...”

“Nobody is here,” John said.  “How can they be?  I have cameras.  Nobody can get here... come inside.”

I let John go and backed away a couple steps.  It left him wobbling, ready to fall again.  Reluctantly, I wrapped my arm into John’s arm and walked.  I pulled him.

“Right choice,” John slurred.  “You come with me.  I’ll show you the world.”

All I wanted was a shower and Jonathan.  My mind lingered in our escapades.  From his office to the private jet to the hotel room to the stairwell, among a growing list of places he preferred to control and command my sexual desires, my body was pleased but I was in need of a hot shower.  I wanted to wash away the negativity.  All the stuff I had to see and endure, including helping John Black as he slid down the ramp to his cottage. 

“Close this,” I said as we walked through the open garage.

“Stop worrying,” John said.  “I would never let someone hurt you.  Nobody will come here.  Nothing else is around here.”

John threw his hand out and hit the button to close to garage.

The heavy door shut which would then lift the ramp, making it seem like nothing existed, but I didn’t feel safe at all.

I felt exposed and vulnerable.

I felt cold.

I felt alone.

I needed Jonathan Black.  Not just for his touch and command, but maybe for his ability to murder.

-2-

John crashed to his leather chair and put his hands towards the fire.  I couldn’t help myself as I stepped towards the fire too, keeping what I believed to be a healthy distance between us.

“Outside,” I said.

“Isabella,” John said, his eyes looking so intent at the fire that the fire reflected in his eyes.  “There’s not another cottage for miles.  If someone wanted to come here we’d know about it.  Trust me.”

“Who was the second phone call?” I asked, going back to an old question.

John laughed.  “You remember a lot, don’t you?  Or was it just because I was talking?”

I refused to answer.  I wouldn’t play into his games.  His face may have had some resemblance to his son, but that’s where the line was drawn.  Jonathan had my body and my heart, two things I’d never give to another person in my life. 

Ever.

“The second call I received is not my place to talk about,” John said.  “I’m sorry.”

“So the man who lies and cheats his own son all of a sudden has a heart?”

“Oh, I have a heart,” John said, “a heart I’d give to you without murderous intentions and constant fear...”

John paused and the words lingered the air.  I purposely exhaled a heavy breath and hoped I could force those words into the fire so they’d burn to ash.