Their Mountain Captive by Kayla Wren

7

Roxy

The first thing Alec does when I wake up is untie my hands. Jeez, I can’t believe I slept at all. I’m lucky they didn’t harvest my organs or something. I blink up at him, eyes bleary, as he leans over me, surrounding me with his woodsman scent.

“Wha—Alec?”

He tugs the ties free, mouth set in a hard line. His green eyes are shadowed, his tan face ashen, but my stomach doesn’t twist. Apparently my body missed the memo about being afraid.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Dante smirks as he strides past, stuffing something in a duffel bag. I gape around the cabin as I sit up, only just noticing the wreckage.

It looks like a tornado blew through here.

The desk drawers hang open. Books slump sideways on the shelves. The kitchen cupboard doors hang wide, displaying their half-empty shelves of canned goods and instant coffee. Blue-tinged dawn light glows around the edge of the curtains, and the fire in the wood burner has died down to embers.

“Um. Hi.” What else do you say to your cheery captor? I rub at my sore wrists, rolling my neck. “Am I peeing?”

“You tell us.” Dante winks at me, and Alec stifles a laugh. And what the hell is this, exactly? Happy families?

“Hilarious,” I snap. “So, tell me, kidnappers. What’s the plan for today? Going to abduct more innocent women? Try your hand at murder?”

“No.” The brief amusement has drained from Alec’s face. He picks up my ankle, probing gently at the bandages, and apparently I’m still bleary from sleep because I let him. I even shuffle closer so he can check it properly. “We’re driving into town. Dropping you off with mountain rescue.”

I peer at him, waiting for the punch line. It doesn’t come.

“You guys are weird.”

“Would you rather we killed you?” Dante asks, but not like it’s a threat. Like it’s funny I’m arguing.

“No. Obviously not.”

“Then you’re welcome.”

“You—”

“Please.” Alec holds up a palm, and we both fall quiet. “Not today.”

Silence reigns for all of two minutes. Then I mumble, “I don’t understand.”

Alec leans down and scoops up my boot, balancing my leg on his knee. I studiously ignore the hard muscle of his thigh, the way his worn jeans cling to the lines of his legs, as he loosens my bootlaces as wide as they’ll go.

“We made a mistake,” he mutters. “We misread the situation, Roxy. We’re sorry.”

My laugh bites off as he slides my foot into my boot. The swelling has gone down a bit since last night, but it still hurts like a bitch.

“You’re sorry? Oh! Oh, that’s okay then.”

“Save it for your blog,” Dante snaps. “Let’s go.”

“No breakfast in bed? No guest book to sign?” Now I’m just being a brat, although the stew Alec cooked last night was delicious. My stomach growls loudly at the memory, and I huff as I shove my other boot on and stand up, hopping on one leg and leaving the last of my dignity on the bed. Alec wraps an arm around my waist, holding me at more of a distance than Dante did.

“Two hours,” is all he says. “It’s a two hour drive. Then we’ll drop you in town and you can get all the food you want.”

“And you guys?”

His face smooths blank. “We’ll come back here.”

I snort. “Yeah, right. You’re a terrible liar. You two aren’t coming back.”

“Will you miss us?” Dante asks slyly, shouldering his duffel and wrenching the door open.

He freezes. There’s no other word to describe it. One second, his cheeks are bunched from grinning, his shoulders more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. Then he frosts over, every line of him going taut, the smile wiped off his face.

“What is it?” Alec steps away from me immediately, striding to the doorway and peering over Dante’s shoulder. He goes still.

“For fuck’s sake,” I say loudly. “What is it? You assholes.” I start to hop closer, determined to see, my arms spread wide and wobbling.

“Stay back,” Alec barks, and I falter. “Roxy. Stay away from the windows and the door. Keep out of sight.”

“But—”

“Do it!”

I flop onto the sofa, more shocked by Alec’s sudden commanding tone than anything else. For the first time in hours, sweat breaks out on the backs of my knees. My heart thumps faster.

Danger.

Something is very wrong.

Dante bends stiffly, picking something up from the deck. He pinches it between his thumb and forefinger, holding it at arm’s length like it might detonate.

“A business card?” I ask.

No one answers.

“But she’s clean,” Alec mutters. “I checked everything. There’s no way she knows him—”

“Coincidence, then.” Dante glances at me, and for the first time there is true regret in his eyes. “Or very bad luck.”

“Do you think he’s seen her?”

“Who?” I call, even as a name flashes across my mind. Angelo.

The mysterious Angelo. The man who scares these men so much that they took me captive. Just incase.

“It doesn’t matter. Either he sees us drive her into town, or he sees us leave her here.” Dante scowls at the business card. “She’s safer with us.”

They’re still stood in the doorway. Right there in the open. If they’re so scared, why don’t they get out of sight too? I open my mouth to say so, but Alec grabs his own bag, all business.

“We go now. I’ll cover you until you get Roxy in the truck. Then—”

“He’ll have cut the brakes.”

They fall silent, chests heaving.

“My truck,” Alec clips out. “He’ll have seen me. But he might not know where I live.”

“It’s half a mile away. He’ll be watching already, it’s too risky—”

“So distract him.” Alec glances at me, and something about the way he stares makes my stomach clench. Like he’s saying goodbye. He looks at Dante the same way, then drops his bag back to the floor.

“Bring it if you can,” he mutters, then strides back through the cabin to the back door. He takes the handle and pauses, waiting for something.

“Roxy.” Dante crosses the rug. He pulls me up from the sofa where I’m sprawled, too confused and scared to follow what’s happening. “It’s going to be okay, bella.” His accent gets thicker when he’s worried. Does he know that? “We’re going to create a little distraction.”

“What about staying out of sight?” I hop across the floorboards, clinging tight to Dante’s shoulder. His shirt is thick and soft, a chequered red flannel, and I have the bizarre urge to bury my face in it until this is all over.

“Not going to work. He’ll see you either way.”

“Angelo?”

Dante’s jaw works. “Yes. Angelo. Here.” He pauses in the doorway and scoops me up bridal style, the floor dropping out from beneath me.

I catch one final glimpse of Alec over Dante’s shoulder, then I’m carried out into the bright dawn light.

* * *

“Who is Angelo?” I whisper as Dante strolls across the deck. His posture is relaxed and languid again—a big ol’ fuck you to whoever is watching. But I can feel his heart thumping in his rib cage; can feel the tremor in his rock-hard muscles.

“Don’t say his name,” he murmurs, pretending to smell my hair. “Don’t even whisper it.”

“But he left his card. He knows we found it—”

“Enough questions, Roxy.” Dante sets me on the railing, stepping between my thighs. “We have a job to do.”

Right. A distraction. While Alec… what? Gets his truck? How far away is it? Will we know if he gets caught? What if this Angelo knows about that truck too—

“Smile,” Dante murmurs. He traces his thumb over my cheek. “Or at least don’t scowl at me like that. We’re trying to put on a show.”

“What kind of show?” I ask, even as Dante nudges closer between my legs. His hips slot against mine, the warmth of his body washing over my core, and I swallow hard. “Oh.”

“My brother was never good at relationships,” Dante murmurs, dragging the tip of his nose up my hairline. I wrap my arms around his neck, tipping my face up to the pale blue sky, and my eyelids flutter closed of their own accord. “Too unnerving. He set everyone on edge.”

“So we’re making him jealous?”

“Something like that.”

My breath hitches. “We’re making him angry?”

Dante hums. “We want his full attention.”

My hands roam down Dante’s back. I find his gun again, my fingertips drifting over the hard ridge of it, but this time he doesn’t angle away.

“You take it if you need it.” He speaks the words against my throat. “Do you know how to use it?”

My fingers curl away. “No.”

Dante sighs, and it’s not fake arousal. It’s the sound of exhausted regret. “Roxy. What have we done to you?”

I don’t know how to answer that. Don’t know how to process any of this. Mere hours ago, this man held me at gun point. He tied me to a bed and wouldn’t let me leave. Now we’re together somehow, cooperating against some mysterious enemy, and the press of his lips against my throat sends sparks racing over my skin.

This is fucked up. So messy, so surreal, and is it even really happening? Is this just another mind game? My back arches, pushing me closer, pressing my breasts against the hard planes of his chest.

“Very good,” Dante says, voice ragged. “Very convincing.” A hand slides into my hair, scratching gently at my scalp. “He’ll think I tempted a sweet hiker to my cabin.”

“Instead of locking her inside.”

Dante shrugs, the movement rocking me on the railing. “You did break a window.”

A giddy burst of laughter travels up my throat. It’s not really funny—none of this is funny—but I’ve been wound so tight for so long now that I’m bursting at the seams. I’m held together by a thread, ready to howl with laughter or scream or burst into tears at any moment.

“Dante,” I manage, voice strangled. He pulls back and looks at me, and my breath catches at what I see.

His pupils are blown wide, his eyes nearly black. His olive cheeks are flushed darker, his pulse thrumming in his throat.

He wants me. Or his body does, anyway. It’s responding to this, the same as mine.

It’s the danger. The adrenaline.

That’s all.

“My article is going to be insane.”

He jerks back slightly then smiles, his eyes crinkling. And the warmth that spreads over his handsome face—it’s like the rising sun cresting over the mountaintop.

“Yes, bella. No more lies between us. You will write your article and it will be insane.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be famous.”

He nods. “If you want to be.”

Doesn’t everyone want to be famous? I kind of figured that was a given, but now I’m not so sure. Not with the tired resignation in Dante’s eyes.

“Are you famous?” It’s all starting to make sense. Or not—not sense, never that, but I’m piecing things together. Why he thought I broke in on purpose. Targeted him out of everyone.

“In a way. My family is well known.”

“Who are your family?”

“The Marinos.”

I freeze, my hands looped around Dante’s neck. He looms in front of me, so broad, so tall, so solid. His dark eyes watch me closely; his breath fans over my cheeks.

“The…”

“Yes. You’ve heard of us?”

I nod, lips numb.

Holy shit. I broke a mobster’s window.

“I…”

“Oh, Roxy.” Dante sighs. Rubs my bare forearm below my rolled sleeve. “You’ve gone so wooden on me. It’s rather late to develop a survival instinct now.”

The morning breeze drifts over the deck. Tugs at my hair and slips down the neck of my sweater. I shiver, pulling Dante closer automatically, and though surprise flashes over his face, he crowds me against the railing.

“When will Alec come back?” I murmur against his throat. Again, I scent something beneath the woodsmoke and pine. The ghosts of expensive grooming. “How far to the truck?”

“A few minutes more.”

“How will we know if this is working?”

“We won’t. Not until it’s done.”

“I don’t…” I trail off, not sure what I’m saying. I don’t want to do this sounds lame. I don’t want to die is just so predictable. And besides, there are lots of things I don’t want to do beside dying. Being abducted is still high on that list, although my firsthand experience of it hasn’t been so bad. All in all, the bear gave me a worse time than this mobster.

I don’t say that, obviously. Kidnappers don’t need validation.

But I’m hit suddenly with the icy knowledge that this danger is real. That I could die out here on Lonely Mountain. They lulled me into feeling safe with their gentle hands and their banter. But this is something else—this is Angelo.

I bury my face in Dante’s chest.

His palm rubs circles on my back. It’s rhythmic, soothing, and I sway closer. Wrap my arms tight around his waist.

The roar of an engine makes Dante jerk to life. He scoops me off the railing and runs with me, pounding down the steps before I even process what’s happening. There’s a shout, the pop of gun shots, and then a truck door is thrown open and I’m bundled inside.

“Go!”

The door slams shut and the truck lurches away, bouncing so hard over the ground that my teeth snap together. I’m tossed around in the backseat, my ankle searing with pain, but when I try to struggle upright Dante pushes me back down.

“Stay low.” His voice is rough. I peer through my hair, and find him clutching one arm. A dark stain spreads beneath his grip, soaking his shirt and sticking it to his skin. Dante shifts until he’s sitting in the center, leaning forward to mutter to Alec. And we bounce down the mountainside, one window shattered and light pouring through a bullet hole in the truck roof.