Their Mountain Captive by Kayla Wren

4

Roxy

“So.” I wince as the calm guy wraps my ankle in a bandage, the pads of his fingers so careful on my leg. “You kidnap often?”

He ignores me, focused on his work, his nimble fingers tying a perfect knot. He’s so steady. So focused. I haven’t really been banged up like this before, but I imagine if I had, this is the guy I’d have wanted looking after me.

You know. Apart from the whole tying-me-to-the-bed-frame thing.

He’s just so tender. So gentle that it makes my chest ache, and makes bitterness clog my throat. Because he has no freaking right to be this way with me. No right to act like he cares.

I don’t want to bond with these assholes. I want to get out this nightmare, limp to freedom, and write the travel article that will make my career.

Kidnapped on Lonely Mountain.

It has a certain ring to it.

Yeah. If I get out of this, they’ve done me a huge favor. And the longer they keep me here, the clearer it is that they don’t want to hurt me. Despite the guns I’ve glimpsed on both of them, they don’t seem to have the stomach for violence.

Well. That Dante guy… he might have shot me, at first. But his friend here keeps him on a tight leash.

“It’s Alex, right?”

“Alec,” he corrects quietly, checking the bandages lay flat. I take the opportunity to examine him closely—really commit him to memory for the police sketch.

He’s tanned. Rugged. Mid thirties; a mix of golden skin and tawny hair and green eyes. It’s a warm blend which makes him seem old fashioned, somehow. Like one of those old tourism posters.

“Probably should have given me a fake name.”

Alec sighs heavily, flicking a glare at the other man. The loud one with the accent. “Probably.”

Stretched out on the bed like this with him looming over me, it’s impossible not to think certain thoughts. And in other circumstances, Alec is exactly the kind of guy I’d like leaning close and pinning me down. His touch is precise and efficient; he handles my body with a confidence that makes my skin flush. And his voice is deep and rich, with that delicious manly timbre. Not scratched up and strangled like mine right now.

Plus he smells really freaking good. Like woodsmoke and fresh rain.

Focus, you idiot.

“So what’s the plan, Alec?” I prod him with my uninjured foot. “You gonna keep me here like a stray puppy? Gonna kill me? Or you gonna keep me trussed up like some weird sex slave?” My traitorous cheeks heat as I add that last bit, and a snort sounds across the room.

Dante leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes glittering as he watches me. “Don’t get your hopes up, Roxy Williams.”

I flip him off, my hands still tied to the bed frame. “Eat me.”

Dante smirks, his face sharp with vicious delight. “You wish.”

“Children,” Alec mutters, sounding one thousand years old. And where does this guy get off, acting like I’m the problem?

“I know,” I say brightly, kicking him off the bed. Alec stands, palms raised, then crosses to the simple kitchen in the corner of the room. A faucet splutters as he fills a glass with water. “How about you two fuckers go jump off the mountain. And I’ll wait here for the bear to get me.”

“Oh, yes.” Dante cocks his head. “This bear. The one who pushed you off a cliff and stole your backpack.”

“I never said—”

“He sounds like a very mean bear.”

“I’d take him over you two psychos any day.”

“Perhaps you should have.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Enough.” Alec’s voice echoes through the cabin. He stands by the sink, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please, you two, for the sake of my sanity, shut the hell up. Or I’ll gag you both.”

My neck twinges as I whip around to watch Dante’s reaction. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you threaten to gag. He seems like the kind of guy who’d slit your throat then brush a speck of lint off his sleeve. But Dante doesn’t glower like I expect—he perks right up, straightening against the wall, clearly thrilled by the suggestion.

When he catches my eye, his face shutters. He leans back against the wall, sullen again.

“Oh. Oh.” I grin at my captor, blowing a stray hair out of my face. “I get it now. Damn, that’s awkward. Does he know, Dante?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Do I know what?” Alec asks, still rubbing his temples.

“Nothing,” I say sweetly. “Nothing at all.”

In normal circumstances, I would never be cruel about something like this. But in normal circumstances, I’m not lashed to a bed frame with two hot psychos pacing around arguing about what to do with me.

All’s fair in war. And besides, I need all the leverage I can get.

“I won’t say anything,” I offer, holding Dante’s eye. His hand twitches towards his gun. “Not if you let me go now.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Sure there’s not.”

“Gags,” Alec grits out. “Both of you.”

I settle back against the thin pillows, mouth curled in a smirk. Alec won’t let him hurt me, and now Dante has something to fear.

Good. Okay. I can work with this.

Freedom, here I come.

* * *

Two hours later, I break the silence again.

“I need to pee.”

No, I don’t. Not really. My body has been in fight-or-flight mode since the second I saw that bear. As far as I can tell from the clenched knot of my abdomen, I may never pee again.

But I’ve been planning. Scheming. And I need to get one of them alone.

Alec’s already pushing to his feet, rolling his stiff neck, ready to escort me outside like the kidnapper gentleman he is. But it’s Dante that strides to the bed, tugging the ties on my wrists undone with a flourish.

Oh, goody.

“Allow me.” His cold smile makes my stomach flip. I swallow, throat suddenly dry, and swing my feet off the bed.

“Um, okay. Ow. Oh, shit. Ow ow ow.” Blood rushes into my injured ankle, shocking the nerve endings into riotous life. I hop on one boot, tears swimming in my eyes, and I have no choice but to grab Dante’s shoulder. His collarbone is sturdy under my hand, his firm muscles like rock. I guess chopping firewood makes you buff.

“Don’t be a baby,” he snaps, but he winds one arm around my waist. Supports me as I hop towards the door. I don’t ask him to put my boot back on. It’d be like trying to squash a grapefruit into an egg cup.

He smells like woodsmoke, same as Alec, but different too. Like the ghost of expensive cologne.

The cabin is sparse. It’s a small mercy: there’s not much distance between the bed and the door. It’s open plan, all one big room, with a kitchenette tucked in one corner and a sofa and coffee table placed together. Bookshelves line one wall, crammed with sagging paperbacks, and coarse gray curtains have been tugged shut. The only bursts of color are the patchwork bedspread and the faded burgundy sofa.

It doesn’t suit Dante.

This is a man who seems like he’d be more at home in a penthouse. With stainless steel surfaces and marble counter tops.

“Watch my rug,” Dante snaps as I scuff up the corner. It’s paled with dust, but there’s a paisley pattern woven into the fabric.

“Sorry,” I mutter under my breath so only Dante can hear. “It’s such a nice rug.” My hand moves as I talk, sliding around his back—

Dante turns, angling his gun out of reach.

“Bad captive.” He flicks my nose, and it’s so unexpected that I blink. Behind me, Alec laughs softly on the sofa, and okay. Maybe he’s just as bad as this asshole.

But then Dante leans in, his breath tickling my ear, and murmurs: “You go for my gun again, and I shoot your other foot. Understand?”

My teeth chatter as I nod, a wave of fear washing me under. Chilling me to my bones.

They’re dangerous. I can’t forget that. Only a few hours ago, Dante planned to shoot me. He meant it.

“Not so cute when Alec can’t hear, are you?” We squeeze through the doorway, shuffling sideways like a messed up tripod.

“No.” Dante’s hand tightens on my waist. “And Alec has to leave sometimes.”

My stomach twists, sweat breaking out down my spine. One minute at a time. I just need to get through this one minute at a time, but my plan was to speak to Alec alone. Not this asshole.

“Here.” We pause at the steps, and Dante scoops an arm under my legs. He lifts me against his chest like I weigh nothing—just another piece of firewood—and I’m reminded again how fragile I am around these two.

Physically, anyway. Mentally, I’m pretty sure I can take them on. Especially when they’re so clearly tangled up over each other, throwing those wistful glances when the other isn’t looking—

“So how long have you been in love with Alec?”

Dante drops me without warning. I barely manage to land on my good leg, and the only thing that keeps me from toppling to the dirt is my hand clutching his sleeve.

“You can pee here.”

“I asked you a question.”

“And I ignored it.”

I squint around the darkness, trying to make sense of the shadows. The moonlight washes the mountain in silver light, the blanket of stars adding an extra glow. And as my eyes adjust, I see the harsh set of Dante’s face.

Time to stop prodding that wound.

“You don’t have an outhouse or something? You just shit in the woods? That’s gross.”

“I have an outhouse,” he clips out. Yeah, this guy is used to ensuite bathrooms. The fact that he has an outhouse clearly pains him. “But you’re not using it. You’re staying out in the open, where I can keep an eye on you.”

“Pervert,” I mutter, peeling down my shorts. “I knew you were weird.” Dante’s mouth twitches as he steadies my elbow, peering out into the dark trees. He keeps one hand on his gun, like he’s expecting wildlife.

Bears… or something else.

Peeing is undignified. Clumsy. And it turns out I can go after all, for an awkwardly long amount of time.

“Goodness,” Dante mutters dryly after two minutes. “Such an impressive show.”

I glance at him quickly, but he’s not watching, thank god. And I take my time fixing myself up and getting dressed again, pulling my shorts slowly up my legs.

“You know,” I murmur once I’m covered again, “we could make some sort of deal.”

“Oh?” He winds his arm back around my waist. Helps me to hop away to a clean patch of dirt.

“Yeah. Listen. I could help you out. Could help you make Alec jealous, or—or help you tell him how you feel. And in return, I limp off into the sunset and never speak of this to anyone. What do you think?”

“You won’t tell anyone?”

I exhale sharply. Is this crap actually working? “No. Of course not.” I mean, kidnappers are always a bit deluded, right?

“You don’t like to post things online? People live on the internet these days.”

“No!” I hop closer, a bubble of hope growing inside me. “No, never. I’m not even on social media,” I lie. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“How wonderful,” Dante says warmly. Then pauses. “But what about your travel blog?”

The grin freezes on my face. Warps into a grimace.

“What—how did you—”

“You’ve been with us for hours, Roxy,” he says softly. “Did you not think we’d look you up?”

My lies from the last few minutes ring in my ears. My claims that I’m not on social media—oh god, I have so many accounts—my stupid deal.

“No.” Dante squeezes my waist. From anyone else, it might be comforting. “Sorry, bella. No deal. And,” he pauses, dragging me to a stop beside him. I turn to stone as something hard and cold prods my rib cage. “Fuck with me again and I will lose my patience, Alec or no Alec. Do you understand?”

I force myself to nod. A bird screeches nearby. The cold breeze slaps against my flushed cheeks.

“Good!” He’s suddenly brisk again. Almost cheerful. “Well, that’s done.” He hitches me against his side and I flinch.

It was a dumb idea. And now I’ve shown my hand. Been caught in a lie when I’m trying to win their trust.

I stare at the ground all the way back to the cabin.

This is so messed up.