Ink & Bone (New York Crime Kings Book 5) (3 page)

Pleased with himself, he wraps the leash around the arm of his chair and pulls it tight, so tight my throat constricts. I’m pulled closer, against my will, until the arm rest bites into my cheek.

“Stay.” Skull chuckles, patting my head. “Good girl.” Shifting in his seat, he leans back and grins at the men before him. “As you were saying before we were interrupted…”

The man in the blue suit, three chairs down, on the left side of the table, clears his throat uncomfortably. “As I was saying, we’re not sure we feel comfortable doing business with you when your…
personal
life
is on the rocks.”

“My personal life is none of your concern.”

“None of our concern?” another speaks out. “We lost hundreds and thousands of dollars when you flushed the tunnels, and just last night your compound was under attack by rogue cops, Joel Stone, and a high profile biker gang. We could have been exposed. I’d say that concerns us.” Somewhere in the room, a chair creaks. “We want to be reimbursed.”

Skull laughs, and I flinch at its amused undertone. “Reimbursed? You want me to pay you the money you owed me in the first place?”

“The money we owed you has gone back into the business.”

He sits forward, his terrifying scare zeroing in on someone down the end. “Between all of you, you owed me twenty-six million, four hundred and thirty-three thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four dollars and ninety-three cents. When I flushed those tunnels, all seven of you took a four hundred and ninety thousand dollar loss. Now, I’m no math genius, but I’d say you still owe me.” Skull smirks. “And don’t forget who put your beautiful,
beautiful
daughter through college, Wyatt.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Wolfe, it’s unethical to expect—”

“You want out? Each of you need to sell an x amount of my newest product. You do that, I’ll find new investors.”

Silence falls, and I’m still reeling over the use of Skull’s surname. Wolfe?

“We haven’t seen your new product. How do we know it’s sellable?”

Skull grins down at me, locking his stare with mine. “I’ll show you.”

***

I struggle against him, against the leash. Twelve suited men walk behind me, their shoes tapping against the sterile, gray concrete under their feet. The room Skull escorts us through is dark, the edges of the space lit up by faint blue LEDs. At the back of the lab-like room is a podium, a podium that Skull leads me to long after the men stop following. My heart pounds in my throat; my muscles ache under my sensitive skin. Whatever is happening—whatever is about to happen—it’s not good.

“What are you doing, Damien?” someone asks.

I flinch. Wolfe. Damien. Damien Wolfe. His name is so…human.

“Damien?” I mumble, and he turns his black glare on me.

I swallow hard and purse my lips as his volcanic eyes burn into me. “Keep your mouth shut.”

Skull drags me up onto the podium and, when we reach the top, he kicks me to the ground. Grunting, my bare, bruised knees slam into the concrete.

“My latest narcotic not only numbs pain and enhances the senses, but test subjects have also recorded that it has allowed them to see sounds as bursts of color.” I squint as the lights in the room are turned on. They’re bright, so bright my eyes burn. “It also temporarily cures depression, anxiety, and dyslexia. It offers the user periods of intense focus—perfect for overworked college students with deadlines to meet.” Skull chains my wrists and stretches my arms to their limits, locking them in place. “On the fun side, it creates a frenzy of sexual arousal in the user, particularly females.”

Ding. A light bulb goes off, and I glare over my shoulder at Skull, who grabs another two chains for my ankles. “If you lay a finger on me, I’ll—”

“Relax, Kitty-Cat. I’m not going to touch you.” He chains my ankles and points to the man at the front of the crowd. “He is.”

The man is as shocked as I am, his boyish face smoothing into surprise. “Me? N-no. N-n-o. Not me.”

“Yes you, Peter.” Skull’s voice is distant, lost somewhere behind me as he fiddles with metal and glass. He whistles a gentle, merry tune as he touches whatever is on the counter. I tug against my chains, keeping my stare on the concrete floor.

Skull’s shoes click around me as he saunters closer. There’s smugness to him, an arrogant air that sends dread spiraling through my stomach.

“Open wide,” he orders, sliding two fingers under my chin.

I pull away from his touch, pressing my chin to my shoulder. He chuckles under his breath before snatching my face in his large, warm hand.

I whimper as a sob is trapped in my throat. “Please,” I squeeze out. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

His black lips pull into a smirk, and he crouches low, his knees clicking as he goes. “It’s all relative, baby. Cause and effect.”

He stabs his fingers into my cheeks, prying my jaw open. I shake my head but can’t break free. Pinching a small blue rock between his index and thumb, he stuffs his hand into my mouth. His index finger brushes the back of my throat, and I gag.

“You’re going to love this.” He deposits the drug at the very back of my tongue before withdrawing his hand and clamping it over my mouth.

Breathing through my nose, I struggle against him, squeezing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to prevent the drug from falling down my throat.

It doesn’t matter…my tongue tingles as the drug dissolves in my saliva. Before long, there’s nothing left. My eyes widen. What if I have a reaction? What if I die? Besides marijuana, I’ve never taken any drugs.

When Skull’s satisfied, he removes his palm from my mouth, and I gasp, desperately spitting onto the floor in front of me.

“Get the gag,” he orders. I keep my gaze on his shoes. I don’t want to. I want to kick and scream and fight for my life, but…but there’s a hum at the back of my head and a lag in my vision. My bones vibrate like the tracks underneath a powering train and my skin feels…well, it feels alive, not like I’m lying on an ant hill, no. I am the ant hill.

A ripple of inebriation rolls down my spine, and I shiver as my sobriety becomes tainted. It’s like I’m awake in a strange dream. Does that make sense? Does anything make sense?

I remain still as Skull pushes a red ball into my mouth and tightens the straps behind my head, keeping it in place. I close my eyes as the world around me becomes too crisp to focus on. Behind my lids, colors dance. They vibrate and swirl with every word that leaves Skull’s tattooed lips.

“Touch her,” he demands, and I open my eyes.

They lock with Peter’s, who stands on the floor beneath me, his hips level with my knees.

“Don’t touch me,” I groan unintelligibly against the rubber ball, and a swirl of blue blows from my mouth.

My lips part. What? This can’t be real. “Did you see that?” I hum, entranced by the green that follows.

Skull addresses the room, but I’m too concerned with what’s happening when I make noise to notice. He’s right. I can see sounds as color.

I close my eyes as ease rolls over my tense muscles. How long has it been since I’ve felt this relaxed? I can’t remember. Even in Skull’s presence, chained up naked in front of twelve strange men, I feel complacent. It’s an illusion, I know, but it’s absolutely magnificent.

Somewhere in my head, I hear Skull order Peter to touch me
there
. A place I’ve forever reserved for Jai and Jai only. I hang my head. It’s unrealistic to expect Skull not to ruin me for Jai. It’s the only reason I’m still alive. Warm, firm fingers slide against my opening, their nervous vibrations strumming my clit, sending overwhelming tendrils of pleasure shooting through my body. I gasp against the ball gag, lifting my head and straightening my spine. Peter snatches his hand back in fear. He should fear me, for every finger he lays upon my skin, Jai will cut off.

Fear is good. Fear keeps him at bay. There’s a sexual hurricane brewing inside me as a result of Skull’s drug, and even the mere thought of a cock, hard and pulsing, sends me closer to the edge. It’s obvious in his tremble that a man like Peter can’t handle a woman like me.

“Touch women often, Peter?” Skull scoffs, stepping toward me with an air of impatience. “Jesus Christ.”

“Well, no…” Peter clears his throat. “I’m gay.”

“That explains a lot.” Skull kneels, pressing one hand against my hip. “How you holding up, Kitty-Cat?” I look at him. Really look at him. For the first time, I see his pores and the slightest hint of stubble. Apart from that, his ink is done with absolute precision.

Finesse.

In my head, I work him up as some kind of demon, but he’s only human. He has weaknesses like everyone else. He gets tired.

Angry.

Sad.

Horny.

He needs to replenish his body with food and water. He needs to sleep. He’s human. That’s all.

Skull presses his hand against the apex of my thighs, igniting a flurry of sensations that burn at my belly. I groan. I groan again. His hand isn’t cold, and his fingers aren’t hard and painful. They’re soft…like Jai’s…and he moves them with skill, swirling and circling. I try to suppress it, the pleasure, but I can’t. I shudder and my hips quake, vibrating my pussy against his hand.

His voice, his sinister voice, fills my ears.

In
whispers
.

In
roars
.

His low mutter of words explodes in color in front of my eyes, and I’ve never seen anything like it. As he talks, he slides the palm of his hand back and forth, back and forth, telling them just how I wet I am. He teases me, taunts me, until my arousal leaks down my thighs—until I’m too wound up to care.

And then he slips a finger inside and I cry out, only it’s muffled by the gag. He adds another and strokes me from the inside once—maybe twice—and I lose my fucking mind. I orgasm harder than I ever have before.

Because of one stupid little rock…

I shudder as he removes his hand and his worker hands him a towelette. Exhaling, he wipes his hands, stands up, and turns around. “Side effects include spontaneous nose bleeds, kidney pain, and a total black out once the drug wears off. Prolonged use may cause hallucinations, kidney and liver failure, strokes, abnormal dependence, depression, anxiety, blindness, and cancer, but hey, what people choose to do to their bodies after we get our money is their problem.”

“How long does it last?”

“The drug has been recorded to last up to thirteen hours, making it one of the longest lasting highs on the market, gentlemen. It’s highly addictive, currently undetectable by basic and inexpensive drug tests, and well worth its weight in gold.”

“How much gold are we talking?”

Skull claps his hands together. “If all of you ship and sell two hundred kilograms each, it will be enough to pay me off, plus interest, and you’ll have plenty of cash left over for yourselves.”

Two hundred
kilograms
? No one else bats an eyelid at his use of the metric system.

“Take a sample home,” he announces. “Try it out. If it’s something you think you can move, we can negotiate a wholesale price. If not, well, I’ll just have to get my money from you another way.” The malicious undertone in his voice makes me shiver.

“If the drug is as good as you say it is…” a man says, his baritone voice echoing around the room. “Sign me up.”

“Make your payment and I can have your batch delivered to you within three days.”

“I’ll pay half now and the other half on delivery.”

I lift my head and peer up at Skull through my damp strands. He tips his head on an angle, apparently in thought. “All right.”

As one of Skull’s men removes the ball gag from my moth, eight of the twelve of his business associates agree to sell Skull’s product. The other four request more time to think about Skull’s proposal. When Skull dismisses them, they stroll from the room, catching glimpses of me over their shoulder before they leave.

“Once they get their product, keep tabs on them,” Skull says to one of his men. “When they sell out, put a bullet in their head and bring me the money.”

My brain rolls in my skull, and I scoff, “You’re disgusting.”

He sneers at me, his tattoo moving with his face. “Says the naked whore.”

I pull against the chain as he drops off the podium. Where is he going? My heart pounds in my chest and sweat breaks out along my hairline. He’s leaving? I can’t stay here! “You can’t leave me here! Please!”

Colors clash in front of my eyes, and my muscles vibrate with fear. I screw up my face as my stomach coils in a way that makes me sick, that makes me ashamed. I sag, pulling against the chains. I hang my head and sob as my chin touches my chest.

Jai…

***

I don’t know how long he keeps me locked up in the room. Definitely not longer than thirteen hours, because I’m still high, still seeing colors, and drowning in my own thoughts. I tense my body and my muscles ache, but it feels amazing and I’ve…I cough, dragging my parched tongue against the roof of my mouth. I’ve become aroused again, and it’s a million times stronger than before. Every second that ticks by winds me up more and more. If I could just squeeze my thighs together, gain some sort of friction, I could end the agony.