Fool Me Twice_a Cartwright Brother Romance Page 9

“It must be nice. I never had any siblings. What are their names?”

  Nate looked at me for a moment, then sighed. “Toby is the oldest. I’m next. Then Sam.”

  “The other two are twins?”

  He nodded. “Abbot and Kristian. Abbot has hair, Kristian has the military do.”

  “And you all steal together?”

  “It’s the family business.”

  “How lovely of your parents to teach you such an admirable vocation.” A saccharine smile dripped from my lips.

  He looked at me, his eyes hard, arms still crossed over his chest. “Just our mother. None of us knew our father.”

  “Of course you didn’t. And your mother is where? Prison?”

  “I’m right here, actually,” a female voice said from the foot of the stairs. She had the dog in her arms, and I swear that mutt had a piece of my pants in his teeth. “Care to introduce me to your new friend, Nathaniel?” She was tall and thin, with elegant features and dark blonde hair threaded with grey.

  “Holland, this is my mother, Jasmine Cartwright.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” I said, opting to be polite to the dragon in its den. I even held out my hand to shake hers. She just looked down her nose at me.

  “Don’t piss on my feet and tell me it’s raining, Holland. There’s no pleasure in this meeting.”

  I lowered my hand and pressed it against the curve of my thigh. “No, I suppose not.” What was I even thinking?

  “Do you like the house?” she asked. Despite how normal her question sounded, it set me off ease.

  “It’s beautiful,” I stated.

  She smiled, but it was too straight and didn’t touch her eyes. “Wonderful. Because you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” My stomach plummeted, landing somewhere in my unsteady legs. I had to force myself to remain impassive instead of dropping to the ground and crying—which was what I really wanted to do. “You’ve probably guessed, but we don’t take kindly to drop-in visitors here. Especially not the kind who seem so filled with information as you and your friend seem to be.”

  “So, that’s it? I’m a prisoner now?”

  “Just until we figure out what to do with you.” Jasmine waved a hand in my direction, then carried the dog into the other room, leaving me and Nate alone again.

  “I can’t fucking believe this.”

  “We can’t exactly let you go, Holland. I’m sure you understand that.” He actually sounded a little apologetic.

  “I understand that perfectly. What I can’t believe is that a grown fucking man is still living with his mother.”

  “That’s what you’re focusing on?” It wasn’t what I was focusing on. Inside, I was freaking the fuck out, but humour was my defence mechanism. I could mock anything. I couldn’t help it. “I do have a place of my own. We all do. It’s just easier to stay here when we’re working.”

  “Fucking good for you.” I crossed my arms across my middle, not giving a shit if he was interested in my tits or not. I was pissed that not only had he robbed me twice, but now I was a captive. And what did ‘figure out what to do with me’ mean?

  “You’re pissed,” he stated.

  “Of course I’m pissed! You can’t keep us here. We have jobs and family who will notice we’ve gone. Alesha’s father is the most overprotective man on the planet and will go to the ends of the earth to find her, and my aunt will just use the app for the GPS card to find the last-known location. Then she’ll call the cops, and keeping me here won’t have made a single bit of difference.”

  He worked his jaw thoughtfully, then pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “Abbot?” He paused to listen. “That tracker, put it in an envelope and post it to Guam or something. Also, get Holland’s phone and her clothes. She’s going to need more than a pair of pants with the arse torn out.” He listened for a moment, then disconnected.

  “What are you planning to do now?”

  “Nothing different. I’m still planning on keeping you here. You’re just going to make a few phone calls using those acting skills of yours. You can make everyone believe you’ve gone on an impromptu holiday, can’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m no good. Did ‘Oh, yes! Nate!’ sound believable to you?”

  His eyes narrowed as the echo from my fake orgasm made the high-ceiling entryway even quieter once it stopped.

  “On second thought, maybe we should get you to send a text.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me?” It was some of my finest acting. I’d go so far as to say I gave Meg Ryan a run for her money.

  “Duchess, I’ve heard you come so hard that your voice didn’t even register, felt your juices pour into my mouth while your clit pulsed under my tongue. Standing here pretending that was all fake is the biggest joke I’ve ever heard, not to mention the worst acting I’ve ever seen.”

  My mouth fell open and I really wanted to stomp my foot, but didn’t. “It wasn’t meant to be great acting,” I lied. “It was meant to be an insult. And I do not pour when I come.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, he smiled. “Oh yes, you do. You’re a gusher, Holland.”

  I gasped, my cheeks heating. “I am not.”

  He stepped closer. “You are. And it’s so fucking hot, I get hard every time I think about it.”

  My eyes travelled down. Yep, he was hard. My tingly bits tingled. My breathing shallowed. It wasn’t a response I wanted to be having when I was in the midst of a hostage situation, but my body had a mind of its own. Traitor.

  Swallowing hard, I forced myself to meet his eyes while jutting my chin out defiantly. “Maybe I have a bladder control problem.” I knew I didn’t have a bladder problem, but as I already mentioned, mocking jokes were my first line of defence. “Maybe I didn’t ejaculate at all. Maybe you drank pee instead.”

  His eyes twinkled. His mouth twitched. Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

  Swiping his thumb across his eye to catch a mirth-filled tear, he finally got control of his bouncing shoulders. “You really are a shitty actor, duchess.”

  Chapter Ten

  I’m Saving You

  Laughter filtered up the hallway as Nate led me to the back of the house. It was there we found Alesha playing pool with Sam while Toby and Jasmine watched. They were hanging out and having fun like it was a normal Friday night and they were just friends instead of captive and captors. It was a surreal scene to walk in on, especially after the tension-filled altercation I’d just come from. To make things even more cozy, they all had beers in their hands and immediately offered one to Nate and me when we entered the room. I declined. I was never accepting another drink from a Cartwright again. Also, I tended to not feel like socialising when I was being held against my will.

  “Ha! Suck on that!” Alesha hollered, shooting a fist in the air after she managed to sink three balls with one shot. Glad she’s having a good time. I wondered if she fully understood the mess we’d landed ourselves in.

  “She’s good,” Sam said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to a pleased-as-punch Alesha, who was draining her bottle of beer while fighting a grin. Maybe she’s drunk? That might be why she seems so happy right now. I couldn’t get over what I was witnessing. Not only was Alesha acting as though we were simply hanging out with a bunch of guys, but she was talking to them. There wasn’t any of that stammering messiness that normally jabbered out of her mouth. She actually appeared to be having fun.

  “I am kicking your arse,” Alesha crowed, gladly accepting another bottle of beer from an amused Toby. He met my eyes, something unknown flickering across his expression as he transferred his attention back to the pool game. He unsettled me. It was like there were waves of anger coming off him, but only towards me. To everyone else, he seemed fine.

  Jasmine cocked her head to the side and looked between Nate and me. “You two get everything straightened out?” she asked, her eyes watching the room with hawklike attention as the devil dog sat obediently at her feet,
licking its chops every time it glanced my way.

  Nate nodded once. “I just need to have a chat with the queen of the pool hall here. Then I think we’ll all know where we stand.”

  “Oh, I know where we stand,” Alesha said, chalking her cue. “We found your hideout and your base of operations, and now we’re not allowed to leave. I’ve watched enough TV to know how these things work.”

  “And you’re not afraid?” Toby asked, amusement in his tone as he watched her line up a shot.

  “Why would I be afraid? I stand in a refrigerated room and put make-up on corpses for a living. This is the most excitement I’ve had in years. There’s hot guys and beer, and bonus, my dad can’t come and haul me off to confessional every chance he gets. This place is like a resort to me.” She grinned, then took a shot.

  The family all exchanged silent conversation while I just stood there with my mouth open, wondering what the hell happened to my nervous best friend.

  Jasmine placed her half-empty bottle of beer on the grey marble–topped bar that was built into the cream-coloured walls. “Can I see you in the office?” She directed her question to Nate, not waiting for a response before she walked across the terracotta tiles, her feet bare and Rogue the Boston terrier clicking along behind her.

  Nate followed without a word, leaving me alone with his brothers and Alesha. Toby looked at me head to toe and then back up again. Was that disdain in his eyes? “You’re trouble,” he stated, sucking back on his beer.

  “I’m trouble?” I pointed to myself. “I’ll have you know my life was nothing but simple up until the moment you lot came into my life with your five-finger discounts.”

  “Insurance companies need us to stay in business,” he stated.

  Before he could go on, I rolled my eyes and added, “People wouldn’t insure if people didn’t steal, keeps the economy going, yadda, yadda, yadda. I’ve already heard the spiel. You’re still a bunch of criminals.”

  “Holland!” Alesha reprimanded me. “Don’t be so rude. We’re guests here.”

  “They are keeping us here, Alesha. We aren’t allowed to leave. How are you OK with this?” There was a shrill sound to my voice.

  She shrugged. “What do you want me to do? Cry? Scream? Shake and rock in the corner? They’re not going to hurt us.”

  “What makes you so sure about that?”

  “I think the fact that I’m standing here playing pool instead of being tied to chair with a gag in my mouth might be a pretty good tip-off. Plus they’ve had ample opportunity to hurt you, in particular, and so far you’ve just had sex—sex so good, I might add, that you went back for a second round, which is what landed us here in the first place.”

  “So this is my fault?”

  “Yes, Holland,” she asserted. “This is very much your fault. We might as well make the best of it.”

  “But we can’t leave.”

  “So? What are we going to go back to? Netflix and no chill? Your apartment is empty. Mine is filled with religious paraphernalia. I like it here.”

  “B-but…,” I spluttered, trying to come up with a reason why she should be feeling as indignant as I was. “But they’re thieves.”

  “The economy needs thieves,” she parroted. She’d obviously taken a really large gulp of the Kool-Aid.

  Sam walked over and slung his arm over her shoulders, completely dwarfing her with his size. “She learns fast, this one. You might want to take a few pages out of her book, Holly.” His blue eyes landed on mine as he drank from his bottle in silent warning.

  “Don’t call me that,” I growled.

  “I think I’ll call you whatever I want.” He took a step forwards, but Alesha grabbed his forearm.

  “Just not Holly, OK, babe?” Babe? “It’s the pet name her parents gave her. She hasn’t let anyone call her that since they died.”

  One of his eyes twitched slightly and his lip curled in a sneer. “Then I’ll call her hole. Since that’s all she is to my brother anyway—a hole to fuck.”

  My eyes locked with Alesha’s. There was compassion in hers, but I was surprised she hadn’t jumped to my defence. Ouch.

  Toby chuckled. “By the expression on her face, she’ll likely become a black hole to destroy you, Sam.”

  Sam growled and turned away, hooking his arm around Alesha’s waist and tugging her with him.

  I pressed my lips together, my stomach twisting in discomfort. I’m living in the Twilight Zone. How could Alesha be so accepting? It was obvious they were dangerous. We were a threat to them; we had the power to bring the police right to their door. At what point would they decide it would be easier to drop us in a ditch than it would be to keep us quiet? The thought hurt my head.

  Alesha returned to playing pool, innocuously joking around with Sam while my stomach grew tighter, my chest began to ache. I felt claustrophobic even though I was in an open space.

  What have we gotten ourselves into? Why didn’t I call the cops when I had the chance?

  As my eyes searched the room, analysing all points of entry and exit, I caught Toby staring at me, his eyes cool as steel. There was something unrestrained about him that set all my nerves on edge. If there was any real danger in this place, it would come from him.

  “You might want to do something about that bite on your arse,” he said after a moment. “Dogs’ mouths aren’t the cleanest things.”

  I twisted my hips and fingered the tear in my pants, noting the stickiness of the drying blood. “Am I allowed to use a bathroom?”

  He nodded and pointed to a door off the games room. “There’s a bathroom in there. And don’t even think about climbing out the windows. They’re all alarmed.”

  Walking cautiously towards the door, I turned the knob, pushing it open to reveal a bedroom with grey carpet, white walls and timber furniture. The bedspread was several shades of grey with silver thread and beading. Above it, a framed black-and-white picture of a silhouetted girl looking out at the setting sun. Besides a few decorative pieces, there weren’t any trinkets around, no signs that anyone occupied it. A guest bedroom, perhaps? I continued through and entered the en-suite bathroom, almost falling over when I caught my dishevelled appearance in the mirror. There was dirt on my cheek, grass in my hair, and my complexion looked bright red and patchy.

  There’s no way Nate would want me. Not looking like this. I looked like a homeless person.

  I stopped myself, frowning at the thought. Why would I want Nate to want me? After everything he’d done, how could I possibly be holding out any hope that he’d want me? I should hate him. I should want his head served to me on a platter, his balls delivered for my lunch.

  Yet there I was, looking at the mess in the mirror and the first thought I had was ‘Does he still think I’m pretty?’ God, I was a sad and sorry excuse for a self-respecting woman.

  Turning on the tap, I used the hand soap to wash my face before I finger-combed my hair and tied it back into a ponytail. Opening the cupboards, looking for any first aid supplies, I found cotton pads, Dettol and some Band-Aids. That would have to do.

  Wetting a flannel, I pulled my pants down so they were just below my arse cheeks, then tried to angle myself so I could see the damage that little dog did. My skin argued against the coarse cloth as I cleaned the tacky blood away, and I winced a little from the pain. I was not looking forward to using the antiseptic.

  Just as I was rinsing the blood from the flannel, a large semi-familiar figure filled the door frame, causing my insides to flip excitedly, nervously. He held a first aid kit.

  “Looks sore,” Nate said, eyes on my bare arse.

  “That little dog has a good set of jaws,” I replied, trying to keep my voice even as I continued to clean myself up.

  “Let me help you.” He stepped closer, setting the first aid kit on the vanity. The moment he was in my space, I could feel the pull of his body calling to mine, stealing my breath. I wasn’t sure I could be trusted alone with this man.

  “I can do it
myself.”

  He wrapped his hand around mine and pried the flannel from my grip. “I wasn’t asking permission.”

  Placing a hand on the top of my arse, he pushed my T-shirt a little higher, then crouched so he was level with my injury. Gently, he wiped at the small puncture marks.

  “I don’t think they’ll need stitches. The bleeding has already stopped.” He took the cotton pads and Dettol from where I’d placed them and saturated the pad, pressing it against my arse cheek.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, the pain like needles in my brain.

  “Almost done,” he said, his voice soft as he dabbed at the area.

  I leaned forwards, gripping the edge of the basin as I tried to focus on anything but the sting from the wound. “Everything sorted with your mother?” I asked through gritted teeth, thinking that maybe conversation would keep my mind off it.

  He blew gently on my skin. “She’s angry. Rightly so. I messed up.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He opened the first aid kit and took out a large adhesive plaster. “I put my desires ahead of the job. And now we have two extra people to worry about.”

  “You think we’ll go to the cops.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  He laid the plaster over my wound and smoothed it with his hand. “Wouldn’t you?” He looked up and met my eyes.

  “If you hadn’t caught us… probably.”

  “So now we have to work out what we’re going to do about that. Do we keep you?” He grabbed the waist of my pants and pulled them down my legs. My insides tingled while at the same time I tried to hold them up.

  “Don’t,” I argued.

  He only tugged harder. “Do we let you go and hope for the best? Or do we make you disappear and our problems along with it?”

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to disappear. “Nate,” I whispered, pleading in my voice.

  He wrapped a hand around my ankle, lifting my leg as he pushed my shoe off and fully removed my pants leg, then did the same on the other side.

  “Please, Nate,” I whispered. “Just let me go. I won’t talk.”