Unbridled and Untethered [The Double Rider Men's Club 10] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (20 page)

She screamed, “No!” But he grabbed her and bounced her off the door again. She struck the side of her head, sending a shower of vibrant stars through her battered brain. Sluggish from the blow, she was unable to resist as he clamped her wrist in the other cuff.

She was unceremoniously dragged through her apartment to her bedroom. The irony of Detective Rollins being on the street outside her apartment was not lost upon her. Why wasn’t he preventing the break-in of her home or her current assault?

The man pushed her face down on her own bed. She tried to kick at him, but without being able to see where he was coming from, he was easily able to subdue her legs by simply sitting on her. She heard the sound of tape being ripped from a roll, and seconds later her ankles were mashed together. The unknown assailant then snagged the handcuffs biting into her wrists and promptly tethered her ankles to them. Just like that, she was hogtied and supremely uncomfortable.

Emma Rae turned her head and screamed as loud she could. Before she took a breath to do it again, the hood was yanked off her head, along with a chunk of hair at the root. Her eyes, watering from the sudden loss of hair, barely had a chance to focus in on the stranger before he spoke.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” A gun was shoved against her nose painfully. “That cop sitting out front can’t hear you. And we can’t leave until
he
does.”

While she didn’t recognize the man holding her—and she most certainly didn’t wish to depart with him—she, however, did remember the distinct tone of his voice. Blinking tears out of her eyes, she saw the round scar on the man’s neck.

“I’m in this mess because you ran your fucking mouth about me to the cops, trying to be a big-shot witness. Fucking bitch. I should have dropped you next to your boyfriend in the vault. If you hadn’t been spraying the area with wild gunshots, I would have.”

Emma Rae closed her eyes and pushed out a silent breath of frustration. She had completely forgotten about the third gunman, yet again.

Unfortunately, he would more than likely kill her rather than leave another witness behind.

* * * *

Luke finished his basic ranch chores quickly and made it back to the house before Zeke left for work. He needed to discuss something important with his best friend.

“You’re back early. Tired of playing with the horses?” Zeke asked absently without looking up from the paper he was reading.

“Not exactly. I have something to show you.”

The paper lowered, and Zeke peered over the top edge. “What?”

Luke opened the cabinet and retrieved a small jeweler’s box. Popping it open, he revealed the engagement ring he’d purchased. He’d intended to design one especially for her, but when he saw this amazing ring in the jeweler’s case, he thought it was more perfect than anything he could think up. So he bought it. The impulse to buy this ring hadn’t bothered him with the exception that Zeke didn’t get a chance to shop with him. And the reason he wanted his friend’s approval of his choice now.

“Initially I was just window shopping, but I thought it was perfect, so I bought it. What do you think?”

Zeke took a long look and whistled. “That’s quite a rock. I believe it might be bigger than her dainty little hand. But
I
like it. You made a great choice.”

“Will
she
like it?”

Zeke’s brows furrowed. He looked up with an amused expression. “Weren’t you the one who insisted that any woman ever to come into our lives again would have to prove her devotion by
staying
in our lives for a minimum of two years before you’d even say the words marriage, wife, or ring? I distinctly remember you being rather adamant about it”

He shrugged and looked nonplussed. “She’s the one. You know it and I know it. Why wait?”

Zeke laughed. “I don’t disagree with that, but I’m surprised you’re willing to test her like this. What if she says no?”

“She won’t. You heard her. We’re her family. She loves us.”

“I did hear that. And in answer to your first question, I
do
think she’ll like it.”

“What would you think of asking her tonight?”

Zeke choked on the sip of coffee he’d just swallowed. “Her first night here?”

“Why not?”

“Are you going to at least demand a long engagement?”

“Nope. I’ll leave it to her. Whenever she wants. Whatever she wants. Anything from a big, expensive wedding with all the trimmings years from now to eloping in Las Vegas next weekend. She calls the shots.”

The phone rang, suddenly jarring him from his wondering what she’d choose. Big or small. Lavish or simple. Now or later.

Deciding it didn’t matter as long as she was happy, Luke snapped the ring box shut and shoved it into his front pocket before picking up the phone.

“Hello.”

“It’s Clay. Will you put Emma Rae on the phone?” The tone of his voice suggested that they possibly had her chained to a bed somewhere.

“She’s not here. She’s at her place packing.” Luke smiled as he thought of her living here as his wife. “And by the way, she’ll need a permanent pass to get in the gate. She’s moving in with us today.”

“The hell you say.” Shockingly, instead of a lecture on why he didn’t like to give out permanent passes, Clay chuckled. Luke wanted to look into the phone and ensure it was really Clay. He said, “Well, good for you for not letting her get away. She will be good for the two of you. I’ll get the pass ready and have it to you before the end of the day. How about that?”

“Thanks, Clay. Did you try her home phone?” Luke asked.

Clay sounded like he was about to say something then stopped. “I already tried both her home phone and her cellular. She didn’t pick up. Which is why I called you.”

“That’s odd. Sometimes I think her phone is permanently wired to her hand. She’s probably just loading her car. I’ll try her and get back to you, or I’ll just tell her to call you.”

“Thanks and congratulations. As far as I’m concerned, Emma Rae is good people.”

Luke quickly dialed her cellular phone, but it went into leave-a-message mode after the first ring. He called her home phone number twice, letting it ring until her phone mail kicked in and gave him the canned “leave a message after the tone” and then beeped.

Zeke asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Emma Rae isn’t picking up either her home or cell phone.” He had a funny feeling in his gut that something just wasn’t right.

“Maybe she’s loading things into her car. Give her a few minutes and try again.” He glanced at his watch, seemingly untroubled.

He’d thought the same thing when talking to Clay. But Luke’s bad feeling increased with every minute that passed. He waited ten long minutes and dialed her home phone again.

It rang and rang and rang. The message kicked in. He left one. “Call me, I’m worried about you.” He hung up and redialed with the same result. He did it again and again. Damn it, he was going to get a response if he had to call every minute and wait all day.

A small, devious internal voice from the past suddenly mocked him.
She’s not coming back
.
She’s just like all the others.

After he’d called for the seventh or eighth time, the receiver was lifted.

“Hello,” came Emma Rae’s clear voice. No inflection. No emotion. He’d heard her speak to clients in the same no-nonsense tone.

“It’s Luke. I’ve been trying to call you. Were you out packing up your car?”

“No.” Clear. Concise. No feeling. No love.

“Why not?”

A long pause of silence followed. Just when he was about to speak again to end the interminable quiet, she said, “I’ve changed my mind.”

What the fuck? Can’t be true.

“I see,” he said as his mind raced with denial. He didn’t see at all. “When will you be back home then?”

“I won’t be back.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided the arrangement we discussed earlier won’t work for me after all.”

Luke’s heart fell to his stomach. Every memory of every lurid breakup they’d ever endured from women who’d suddenly changed their mind about a threesome relationship screeched to the forefront of his brain.

“Emma Rae, we want to marry you. I’ve got a ring in my pocket right this second. Please, will you reconsider?”

Another endlessly long pause. “No. I’m not interested. Please don’t call here again.” Click.

Clay wanted Emma Rae’s help with something for Jake’s private project. He needed to add a better processer to crunch some large-scale data. She’d have him wired and working in no time, if only he could get a hold of her.

The weekend with Jake at the Stadium couldn’t have gone any better. By the end of the evening, he’d agreed to move to Ryder in the next month or so. He just needed to get
official
approval from his job. They even discussed building a new place of their own on the property. Clay had just the spot he’d been saving for a new home. After selling his first cabin to Sabrina Lancaster and her two husbands, Parker and Drew, he’d drawn up plans for a larger and more modern place immediately.

He shook himself from his reverie and glanced at the clock, surprised to find out it had been almost thirty minutes since he’d called Luke. He called their ranch again, but the phone rang until messages picked up.

He dialed Emma Rae’s home and cellular once more but got nothing. Odd. His gut churned from frustration. He’d gotten accustomed to Emma Rae always being at his beck and call for his computer-related issues. If Zeke and Luke were going to monopolize her time, he’d have to speak to them and allot himself some slices of time for her computer services. Or if she planned to live on the property, perhaps he’d offer her a desk, room, or small corner space in his security fortress. Then she’d be close by for days like this.

He got up and paced the room, disturbed by his lack of discipline in waiting for her to call him back.

Once she knew he waited for her response, surely he’d hear from her. He couldn’t stand waiting by the phone here any longer. He decided to create Emma Rae’s permanent DRMC access pass and leave it at the front gate for the next time she came. Then he’d head to her apartment in town to discover if she had technical difficulties or if Zeke and Luke were just monopolizing her time today.

* * * *

Emma Rae slumped sideways on the bed after what she considered an Oscar-winning performance in telling Luke she didn’t want to move in with them anymore. She hadn’t broken. She hadn’t cried until the third gunman—whom she now knew as Lenny Boston—had hung up the phone. The line had just clicked off on her new life, her new love, and the men she tried desperately to protect with her lies.

“And if they come here anyway, boom! A pop in the melon is what’s waiting for them. You get me, bitch?”

“Yes. I understand.” Emma Rae did her best to placate him with calm, deadpan words of response. So far it worked to keep him away from her.

Meanwhile, she feverishly tried to slide her hand from one of the cuffs. The first one was tight to her wrist, but the second one hadn’t clamped as close to her skin. She silently worked to free her hand, and when he wasn’t looking, then boom. In
her
fantasies, Lenny would be the one with a pop to his melon.

She didn’t need a gun for that. A nice ceramic bedside lamp or glass pitcher would also work. One of these items was in her bedroom. Another was on the top of her refrigerator. She spent a few minutes trying to think of other possible weapons in her apartment, but beyond the iron skillet in the storage space beneath her stove, nothing else came to mind.

She pulled hard on the cuff, trying to wedge her hand through the too-small opening of the rough metal circle. Her fingers ached from being cramped in the unnatural position. She twisted. She pulled. She started to sweat a bit, which helped, but not enough. So frustrating.

Lenny paced around her living room. She could see him when he circled near the bedroom door. She only stopped her efforts when he walked directly by and glanced into the room.

If, by some miracle, she got out of these handcuffs, she was getting out of here. Her best bet was likely crashing something on his head and running for her life. The short length of tape tethering her hands to her feet had been cut quickly when he forced her to take the phone call from Luke. So at least her arms and legs weren’t bent behind her in the uncomfortable pretzel position any longer.

However, her ankles were still taped together, limiting her ability to run. He’d used the masking tape hurriedly and badly, and therefore it should be easy to rip. At least she
hoped
it would be easy. He’d only wrapped a few strands of the sticky tape around the outside of her legs over her jeans. With all the strength of her ankles she tried to break the bond, but the tape stretched and didn’t budge. She wasn’t sure she could break it without her hands being free.

If nothing else, she’d kick her shoes off, shed her pants off like an unwanted second skin, and run out the back door in her bare feet and panties. Which would probably only work if she could get rid of these stupid, painful handcuffs. Once Lenny wasn’t waving the gun everywhere or stalking around her apartment like an angry tiger tethered to a stake, she’d take her best chance and get out fast. Even if she had to hop her way out of her apartment.