Beneath a Blood Moon Read online

  “Just this once,” she informed me, gracing me with a smile.

  I flushed. “Thanks.”

  In a way, I wished she hadn’t covered my half of the bill; Isabella had a way of turning a fifteen dollar debt into a hundred dollar profit for herself. Unless I had good luck and soon, I would likely owe Isabella every extra cent I’d make for a year in order to repay her for her kindness.

  Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to make a life for myself in the city. Without her, I wouldn’t have been able to attend college at all. Despite knowing that, I couldn’t deny the truth.

  Everything in Vegas had a price—even friendship.

  All I could do was hope her help wouldn’t cost more than I was willing to pay. At least I had some hope, which made me smile. When I needed her, she was there.

  The night passed in a blur. After the mysterious amber-eyed man and his elusive smile, none of the men in the club were worth dancing for, and my work suffered from my lack of interest and enthusiasm. Isabella didn’t do much better than I did, and after an afternoon and early evening of lackluster tips, we mutually gave up; she gave the last two hours of her shift to one of the new girls.

  “We’ll go to your place and grab your books,” she said, herding me to the line for a cab. “Won’t be able to take everything, but at least you won’t have to go without your important things. Between the two of us, we can take quite a bit.”

  “I can replace my books. We don’t have to go,” I protested, shaking my head at the thought of returning to my apartment. “This is a stupid idea.”

  If there were more roses and threats waiting on my doorstep, I didn’t want to know about them.

  “Don’t try to feed me that shit. You’ve been working yourself to death trying to go to college. You need those books and your notes. Face it; you can’t afford to blow a single semester or you’ll be sixty before you graduate and can get out of our business. You’ll be wrinkled and old, unable to find a husband—and don’t you glare at me. We both know you want to settle down. Stop worrying. We’ll be together. Your place isn’t in that bad of a part of town. If that ass left something, ignore it. We’ll get in, grab the important stuff, and get out. It’s not too late, and it’s not a long walk to the cab stand near your place. We’ll be fine.”

  I had no idea where Isabella got her confidence from, but I recognized a lost cause when I saw it. Isabella’s dark eyes held no room for compromise, so I sighed and nodded. “I guess.”

  I still thought it was a stupid and dangerous idea, but I didn’t have the courage to fight her on it.

  Isabella smiled at me. “It’s probably some rich fucker who got pissed you didn’t go home with him. Next time, just go home with him and take his money. You’ll avoid a lot of problems that way.”

  In a way, she was probably right. While some girls ran into trouble prostituting in town, STDs and unwanted pregnancies were the most notable risks. Even though I didn’t prostitute often, I made room in the budget for the good birth control—and I was careful about who I went home with.

  Unlike many of the girls I knew, I was clean, and I meant to stay that way.

  To even the scales, I paid for the cab ride to my place, earning a glare from Isabella. I scowled back at her and slid out of the car. Once the cab pulled away, Isabella braced her hands on her hips and stared at my apartment building.

  “Your place kinda does look like a great location for a horror flick.”

  “Thanks so much for that,” I muttered, stomping up the walkway towards my apartment.

  The bouquet of roses waiting for me was excessive; dozens of red blossoms were ringed with white. The flowers rested on a bed of ferns. Golden ribbons bound the whole thing together.

  “Someone either likes you a lot or really, really hates you,” Isabella stated, staring down at the bouquet. “That’s insane.”

  “Welcome to my life,” I muttered, pulling my keys out of my purse to unlock the door. I opened it, stepping over the roses. “Let’s just get—”

  Something sharp stabbed into my side. I drew a breath to scream, but my body refused to cooperate with me. A soft sigh slipped between my lips, and I went numb and limp, my legs giving out beneath me. Moments later, everything went dark.

  Chapter Three

  I woke up long before my body acknowledged my control of it. At first, I couldn’t feel anything other than the spasms clenching my muscles. My arms and legs jerked of their own volition, and each movement sent pain lancing up and down my spine.

  If I could have screamed, I would have.

  I had no idea how long I drifted, unable to escape from the pain of my convulsing muscles, unable to open my eyes, and unable to do anything other than wait. I tried to count the seconds, but I hurt too much to concentrate for long. When I finally won some control over my body, all I could do was lie still and fight to catch my breath.

  I opened my eyes to darkness, which frightened a gasp out of me. I blinked, and when my eyelashes caught on material, I realized I was blindfolded. The fabric was so soft and plush on my skin I didn’t notice it until I tried to move my head and the cloth shifted. A glimmer of light peeked through a gap in the blindfold. The ringing in my ears drowned out all other sound, if there was any.

  I wiggled my fingers, and relieved I could move, I shifted my weight. My wrists were bound together in front of me, and the bristles of cheap hemp rope dug into my skin.

  My fear rose. I had been right to be afraid. I had been right to want to avoid my home.

  Because of my inability to stand up to Isabella, because of my foolish trust she knew best, I had doomed us both. Was my friend already dead because of me?

  All of the things I should have done rattled around in my head until I was smothered by the weight of my guilt and despair. Why hadn’t I protested more?

  I could have replaced my notes and my books. The costs of their replacements would have left me pinching pennies, but it was a price I could pay; I couldn’t afford losing Isabella.

  She was the only real friend I had, no matter how we had met—or that her friendship had been bought.

  Whoever had kidnapped me wasn’t very smart or was confident I wouldn’t escape. While my hands were bound, there was nothing preventing me from pulling off my blindfold, which I did. The bright light hurt my eyes, and squinting, I took in my surroundings.

  I was sprawled on a hardwood floor in a small room straight out of a Wild West cabin. A couch with gaudy floral print took up most of the space, accompanied by a saddle hung over a wooden rack and a bearskin rug. Isabella was bound next to me, and she was also blindfolded with her hands tied in front of her.

  Our kidnapper hadn’t bothered to bind our feet. I rolled onto my back, searching for any signs of anyone else in the room with us.

  All was quiet.

  Relieved, I examined the ropes binding my hands together. The knot was placed on the far side of my wrists, which would have made it difficult to reach with my teeth if I weren’t so flexible. Twisting my arms until they creaked in their sockets, I positioned the knot where I could get a good look at it and went to work.

  The hemp’s bristles made the process painful, and by the time I loosened the first loop, my lips were bleeding. I’d be picking hemp out for weeks, but if I could escape my ties, I might live long enough to worry about my mouth. After the first part of the knot came undone, the rest unraveled, allowing me to yank my hands free. I grabbed hold of Isabella’s wrists, attacking the knotted rope with my nails. It didn’t take long to release her. I saved the blindfold for last, and when I pulled it from her face, she stared at me with a dull, dazed expression.

  “Shh,” I hissed.

  Her eyes widened, and after a moment, she nodded. With her confusion written plainly on her face, she rubbed her wrists, staring around the room. “What happened?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” I sat up, grimacing at the throb in my side. I lifted my tank-top, staring at the pair of puncture marks and bruising
marking my ribs.

  Isabella sucked in a breath, touching my side. “Taser.”

  “You too?”

  Grimacing, my friend reached up and touched the back of her head. “Someone hit me. I heard the crack and the thump of you falling. I tried to run, but it was too late.”

  Some people would have been offended by being abandoned, but I appreciated Isabella’s blunt honesty. I didn’t expect her to endanger herself, although her efforts hadn’t saved her.

  We were friends, but there were limits. Money couldn’t buy everything.

  “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved,” I mumbled.

  “You did say you thought it was a bad idea.” Isabella wrinkled her nose. “I should have listened. Forget it. Let’s bust this joint while we can.”

  Maybe Isabella had been hit in the head, but I needed her help to get to my feet and stay there. My muscles trembled and twitched as though electricity still coursed through me. A storm door set beside a curtained window promised freedom. We staggered to it, and holding up her hand in warning, Isabella peeked outside.

  The sun burned over the desert, and for as far as I could see, there was nothing but dry, cracked ground and craggy stones jutting up from the barren landscape. My mouth dropped open.

  The door wasn’t locked, and with a dismayed cry, Isabella stepped outside. The cabin wasn’t much larger than a shed, and the desert loomed all around us. The oppressive, relentless heat drove my friend back inside the cabin’s welcoming cool.

  “What the fuck?” Closing the door, she checked over the rest of the cabin, which consisted of a tiny bedroom, an even smaller kitchenette, and a bathroom with a shower stall.

  Through the bathroom window, I saw a long line of electric poles stretching across the desert. I pointed at it. “Must be something that way.”

  “Are you stupid? We’ll die trying to cross the desert like this. There’s nothing in here we can use to carry water. We have no idea where we are.” Isabella glared at me before returning to the main sitting room, flopping down on the couch. “We’re stuck.”

  Something about the way she gave up without even attempting to free herself pissed me off. I swayed but remained standing, staring at her for a long moment. I clenched my teeth.

  As her friend, I shouldn’t have even considered leaving her behind, but I was tired. I was tired of being pushed around. I was tired of being afraid. I was tired of being a second-rate citizen compared to her; she was beautiful, smarter than I ever hoped to be, and willing to do whatever it took to advance her wealth and social standing.

  I had left that life behind, renouncing it when I ran away from New York to escape my father’s fury at my poor choices and his overbearing, controlling behavior.

  If I had to choose between staying a hostage or dying in the desert, it wasn’t a difficult choice to make. It was a stupid decision to make, but I was beyond caring.

  I would rather die free. Maybe she was content to wait for her fate, but I wasn’t.

  Lifting my chin, I glared down my nose at Isabella. “No, Isabella. You’re stuck.”

  Isabella’s eyes widened and her mouth hung open, though she didn’t say a word. Satisfied I had made my point clear, I stomped to the door and flung it open.

  A man stood in the doorway, watching me with a faint smile on his lips and a gleam in his blue eyes. Recognition drove me back several steps, and with my heart in my throat, I spluttered.

  The years had refined Rory, smoothing away the rough edges that had appealed to me when I had met him at sixteen. Instead of the tattered t-shirt he had once favored, he wore a black suit and a pristine white shirt. Desert sand dusted his legs. When he strode towards me, I backed away, shaking my head in denial.

  He halted in the center of the room, sliding his hands into his pockets. He considered me before flashing his best smile at Isabella.

  “Well, well, well,” he murmured. “It seems you ladies were industrious while I was gone. Pardon my rude invitation. I didn’t think you’d accept if I went about it the normal way.” Rory turned his attention to me, and there was something predatory about the way he grinned at me. “You’ve gotten prettier, Sara. I hadn’t thought it possible. I like your hair. It suits you.”

  My legs gave out beneath me and I sank to the floor, staring up at the blond-haired, blue-eyed man I had defied my parents for, only to have him cheat on me the same day my father’s rage had left my arm scarred and broken. While the hairline crack had healed, the memory of its pain remained.

  As the shock wore off, my fury at his betrayal washed through me, giving me the strength to get to my feet. I shook from head to toe, balling my hands into fists at my side. “You cheating son of a bitch,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You left the threats? You disgusting frea—”

  When I had known him, Rory had been slow and deliberate in the way he moved. Closing the distance between us in a long stride, he whipped out his arm and cracked the back of his hand across my face. My head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and I staggered. He grabbed hold of my upper arm, his fingers closing around the injury my father had give me three years before.

  Without his hold on me, I would have fallen. Blood streamed down my chin from where his blow had split my lip.

  “Watch your mouth,” he snapped. The sound that came out of his throat wasn’t human; it was an animal’s growl, and it sent shivers racing through me. “You should be grateful. I could have decided to simply kill your friend, but I thought you’d appreciate her company.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Isabella gasped out, rising to her feet.

  Without hesitation, Rory pulled a gun from his pocket, pointing it at my friend. “Sit down and be quiet, ma’am. This doesn’t involve you at the moment. This is between me and Sara.”

  Isabella’s face paled, and she sank down onto the couch without a word.

  “Why did you leave me?” The way Rory’s eyes bore into me chilled me to the bone.

  Instead of a sane woman’s fear, my rage, disgust, and self-loathing smothered all of my other emotions. My anger won, and I lifted my hand to mouth, pressing my palm to the wound to staunch the flow of blood. All of the things I had wanted to scream at him years ago bubbled out of me in a relentless flood. “Why would I stay with a cheating bastard like you? I told you. I told you from the start. All I wanted from you was your loyalty. You sold yourself pretty cheap to that other girl, didn’t you? Didn’t think I’d catch you in the act, did you? How did she get you? Did she buy you a couple of shots? Maybe drugs you couldn’t afford? Did she let you take her for a ride in your piece of shit car when I wouldn’t? Well? Which was it? Piece of shit cheater. My only regret is that I didn’t run far enough.”

  I pulled my hand away from my mouth, turning my palm to him. My blood dripped down my arm, reached my elbow, and fell to the floor.

  All of the anger fled from his expression as he stared at my red-stained skin. With a gentle touch, he seized my wrist in one hand and my chin with the other. I froze, trembling at the bruising strength of his grip. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

  “I never should have gotten involved with you. Looks like my father was right.” With far more strength than I thought I possessed, I ripped my hand free of his hold. “Let me go. Forget it, Rory. I’ll never take a cheating scumbag like you back.”

  “Even if it costs you your life?” he asked, arching a brow. “It might, you know. I have no intention of letting you get away this time. Not after I spent so long hunting you down. I have to give you credit. You did a pretty good job of hiding. Now that I’ve found you, I won’t lose you again.”

  “I’d rather die.”

  When he backhanded me again, I hit the floor hard, stunned from the force of his blow. For a long moment, I couldn’t even breathe, let alone fight him when he dug his foot into my side and rolled me onto my back. He pressed his shoe between my breasts and pinned me to the floor with his weight. “You will, unless you change your mind,” he promised.

>   Breathing hurt, and I had the feeling Rory had broken something pressing down so hard against my chest. Sharp pains blossomed from where he pinned me with his foot, strengthening each time I inhaled. He ignored me, all of his attention focused on Isabella.

  The minutes dragged by, until so much time passed my body went numb, and all I was aware of was Rory’s weight crushing my chest. I should have fought him, but as when I had initially woken up, my body refused to obey me.

  “After you kill her, are you going to kill me?”

  “I don’t want to kill her,” my ex-boyfriend replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

  It was the same way my father had sounded in the hours before I had run away from home, leaving New York behind me.

  “Doesn’t look that way to me, doll. I’ve seen people die before, and she’s on her way out the door. If you wanted her alive, you wouldn’t be standing on her like that when it’s pretty obvious you’ve hurt her pretty bad.” Isabella laughed, and it was a happy sound. “Figured it’d happen to her one of these days, teasing so many men without putting out for any of them. Hell, I don’t think she’s ever taken one of the poor bastards she’s teased home with her, not even out of pity. Look, I like living. I’ll take you for a ride you’ll never forget, but in exchange, you’ll take me back to the city when you’re done with me. Forget her and come play with me.”

  Rory jerked his foot off of me. I shifted my gaze to my friend, wondering if she was backhandedly trying to help me or if she genuinely didn’t care if I died.

  The way she smiled, her attention focused entirely on Rory, told me all I needed to know. Her loyalty, such as it was, had come cheap enough.

  It shouldn’t have surprised me in the slightest her friendship was just as easily sold when I outlived my usefulness. I should have blamed her, but I couldn’t bring myself to. After all, without me, she wouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place.