Temper Him by Caitlyn Dare

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kennedy

“Warren, just stop... please...” The words die on my tongue as he yanks me toward his beat-up car.

“Let’s see how Jagger likes it when I disappear with his favorite toy,” he sneers, yanking open the trunk. “Get in.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Stupid fucking bitch, get in the trunk.”

“No, I’m not get—"

He grabs me and folds me in his arms. I kick and scream, I even bite down hard on his arm, but he’s too strong and I feel a little woozy from where he hit me earlier.

“We can do this the hard way,” he growls, “or we can do this the really hard way.”

The venom in his voice sends chills down my spine and my body goes limp. I can’t win here, and no one is coming to save me. We left a war zone; people fighting and wrecking Shelbie’s dad’s bar.

I curl into a ball, dragging in a big lungful of air.

“Good girl.” He curls his fingers over the edge of the trunk. “Happy birthday, baby. This will be one you’ll never forget.”

Everything goes black, the slam of the trunk like a gunshot to my heart. He’s lost it, completely and utterly lost it.

I sensed it last night when he found me looking for the cell phone. Warren is unhinged, driven to the brink of madness. I thought it was about me, that I’m his trigger, but it’s not. It’s the Jaggers.

He wants to hurt them. He wants to hurt Conner. And I’m Conner’s weakness.

Tears leak from my eyes as the car rumbles to life beneath me. Panic floods me as I try to keep calm.

Warren planned this whole night. From setting me and Conner up last night, to the party, to snatching me before Conner or his brothers could get to me. He wanted Conner to witness my injuries, just like he wanted Conner to watch me disappear.

Oh God, Conner.

Pain rips through me. He’ll be beside himself, and it’s all my fault. I should have fought harder, given Shelbie some sign to raise the alarm.

It occurs to me that Warren is covering his tracks by making me ride in here. He doesn’t want me to know where we’re going, which means maybe he plans on me making it out of this alive.

Or maybe it’s just all part of his sick and twisted mind games. He wants me to think I stand a chance when in fact, I don’t. He could be driving me to my death right now and I don’t even know.

Fuck.

My chest burns. I’m pretty sure he cracked a rib last night. The ugly bruise matches the one around my eye.

I smother a whimper. Crying isn’t going to get me out of this.

I’m not sure anything will.

* * *

What feels like a lifetime later, the car finally rolls to a stop. I have no idea how long we’ve been traveling; I’m pretty sure I was in and out of consciousness.

The trunk opens and Warren’s dark eyes glitter dangerously back at me. “Out,” he barks at me the way a man might talk to his dog.

I gingerly climb out, my ribs smarting as I lower myself onto the ground.

“Where are we?” I ask, my eyes straining against the darkness. There’s a building behind us. A warehouse maybe. But it’s so dark it’s hard to make out any landmarks or distinguishing features.

“Doesn’t matter,” Warren says, grabbing my arm and shoving me forward. Fire ignites in my muscles as they protest at his rough treatment.

It might be dark, but Warren has no issue navigating his way around. He brings me to a door and yanks it open, pushing me into the dark abyss. There’s a cloying smell in the air, but I can’t quite point my finger on it, my senses all out of whack. The air is stale though, as if the place doesn’t get much ventilation.

“What is this place?”

“Your worst nightmare.” He almost laughs the words, making fear sit heavy in my stomach.

The narrow hall eventually widens into a cavernous room. There’s a sliver of moonlight streaming in through a hole in the roof, casting an eerie hue around the place. Warren finally releases me and stalks past me. He must hit a switch because a lamp flickers to life and my eyes finally adjust to what is an abandoned warehouse of some sort. There’s some empty racks and crates lying around, but that’s not what catches my eye.

“What is that?” I can’t disguise the tremor in my voice as I move closer to the cage. It’s in the corner of the room, taunting me.

Warren comes up behind me, running a hand up my spine and lowering his mouth to the shell of my ear. “It’s your birthday present, baby. Don’t you like it? I had it made special just for you.”

Bile rushes up my throat, and I puke all over the floor. This is happening... this is really happening.

“Please, don’t,” I cry, tears stinging my eyes.

He grabs the nape of my neck and shoves me forward. “In you go, bitch.”

“Warren, please—" He pushes so hard I fall to the floor with a thud. Pain shoots through my bones as I choke back a sob. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Oh, but I am.” He crouches down, locking the door. “You see, the Jaggers took something from me. And now I’m going to take something from them.”

“P-please, Warren, you don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t know what the fuck I want, Ken. You never did.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to pull the plug and watch the Jaggers unravel. Then I’m going to deliver you to Conner piece by bloody piece.”

Bile crawls up my throat again, but I manage to swallow it down this time.

“So what are you waiting for?” I scream. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. JUST DO IT AND PUT ME OUT OF MISERY.” My chest heaves with the weight of my words. I can’t do this. I can’t be kept here like an animal. I’d rather die.

Warren cocks his head and studies me, but then he clicks his tongue. “You’re not getting out of it that easy, baby. I want to have some fun first.”

* * *

Idon’t know how long I lie here in the cage. Warren disappears now and again, and I drift in and out. The floor is cold and hard beneath me, and the pain in my ribs is getting worse. I don’t complain, though. We’re beyond any civility.

Earlier, Warren pushed a bowl of water and crackers into the cage. Not only does he have me penned up like an animal, he’s treating me like one. But I sipped the water and ate a couple. If I want to stay lucid, I need to stave off the hunger pangs and dehydration.

“What time is it?” I ask in the silence. Warren is in here somewhere; I can feel him lurking in the shadows. A sliver of moonlight bounces in through a hole in the roof, but it barely lights up the vast room.

It’s still nighttime, but I have no idea how long I’ve been here.

“Warren, please,” I cry.

He finally steps out of the shadows, his lip curled with disgust. “You look like shit,” he spits. “Maybe I should just slit your throat and be done with it.” His arm lashes out and he runs a blade across the bars, the noise rattling through my skull.

“Please,” I beg, no longer sure whether I’m begging for my life or my death.

“Or maybe I should fuck the life right out of you. Would you like that, Ken, baby? Would you like me to feed you my dick while I slice you open and watch you bleed?”

I retch into my hand. This isn’t the Warren I know. This is someone worse. Someone sick and twisted with no regard for life.

He moves around the cage, jabbing the knife sharply through the bars. I move with him, trying to avoid his lashes. Curling myself tightly into a ball, I wait him out. I think I’m at a safe distance, until I feel the blade nick the back of my shoulder. I lurch forward, but he darts around the cage, following me. Tears drip down my cheeks as he taunts me.

“Maybe I’ll fuck you with it.” He places the flat of the knife on his tongue and drags it across his flesh.

Fear cripples me. Warren is bad. Rotten to the core. I know that. Yet, I can’t help but think I’ve only scratched the surface of his true perversities, and that’s what terrifies me most.

He watches me for another few minutes, playing with the knife like it’s a child’s toy. Finally, he grows bored, turning his attention to something deeper in the room.

I roll onto my side and close my eyes. Everything hurts, but as my eyes flutter closed, I know it’s only going to get worse.

* * *

The next time I wake, it’s significantly lighter. The edges of the warehouse still sit in darkness, but I can see more clearly now. Clear enough to realize the cage has been left open.

“Warren?” I call, only to be greeted with silence. “Warren?” I crawl to the edge of the cage, gently patting the floor beyond the cage walls.

My body aches, screaming at me to stop when I start to clamber to my feet. I inhale a shaky breath as I search the warehouse. There’s a bunch of racks separating the cage from the rest of the room, but I can just about see Warren through the shelves. He’s hunched over a desk, busy typing away on a keyboard. He doesn’t hear me approach, nor does he hear me cry every time my ribs stretch and contract.

The tap tap tap of keys fills the air and still, he doesn’t look back. I try to make sense of whatever he’s doing but the screen is a jumble of letters and numbers on a black screen. I strain my eyes to try to decipher them, but it’s futile.

Then something on the wall catches my eye. “What is this?” My voice trembles as I move closer. It’s a web of string joining together photographs and newspaper cuttings. There are even some handwritten notes. From a distance, it looks like a collection of unrelated, nonsensical information. But upon closer inspection, I can see that isn’t the case at all.

“I see you found it.” Warren startles me, catapulting my heart into my throat.

“W-what is it?” I’m pretty sure I know, but I don’t understand.

“Don’t play dumb, Ken. I know you’re better than that.” His hand curves around the back of my neck and he pushes me forward.

“Y-you—”

“Surprise,” he says. “As you can see, I’ve been a busy boy.”

My mouth falls open to reply, but I don’t know what to say. It looks like something out of a crime show... and right there in the middle is a photograph of me.