Kiss Chase (Exile Book 2) Read online

  “You’re such a creep sometimes, Strike.”

  “I’m a creep all the time.” A noise made him stop to look up, but he took her arm and turned her around, putting her against the wall. “Did you tell him you were coming here?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she said. “Then I’d have had to explain that you set me up to take a useless laptop.”

  “You didn’t let him touch her,” he said, his lips slanting.

  Socking his shoulder, Rora didn’t appreciate his look of satisfaction. Strike’s implant would have notified him if someone unauthorized made contact with Opal’s keyboard.

  “I hope that wasn’t what you were banking on. He’s a good man, Strike. He’s not from your world. He’s just trying to do the right thing.”

  “I remember you were like that once,” he said.

  When he tried to touch her face, she ducked back and pushed his hand away. “I’m still trying to do the right thing.”

  Also by Scarlett Finn

  STANDALONE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  MAESTRO’S MUSE

  GETTING TRICKY

  REMEMBER WHEN…

  EXILE

  HIDE & SEEK

  KISS CHASE

  THE BRANDED SERIES

  BRANDED

  SCARRED

  MARKED

  THE KINDRED SERIES

  RAVEN

  SWALLOW

  CUCKOO

  SWIFT

  FALCON

  FINCH

  THE EXPLICIT SERIES

  EXPLICIT INSTRUCTION

  EXPLICIT DETAIL

  EXPLICIT MEMORY

  RISQUE SERIES

  TAKE A RISK

  RISK IT ALL

  GAME OF RISK

  HARROW DUET

  FIGHTING FATE

  FIGHTING BACK

  MISTAKE DUET

  MISTAKE ME NOT

  SLEIGHT MISTAKE

  Copyright © 2018 Scarlett Finn

  The right of Scarlett Finn to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  First published in 2018

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Najla Qamber Designs

  www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

  All rights reserved.

  for the readers

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  ONE

  “And they all lived happily ever after.”

  Her eyes were closed, her head drooped between her arms held in the stocks fastened to the exposed-brick wall behind her, but Aurora Maguire heard Bella finish the story and close the book; she hadn’t slipped into delirium yet.

  Rora had been here so long that the chains around her ankles had become an extension of her being. But becoming accustomed to her captivity didn’t save her legs from feeling the cold or the exhaustion that came from constantly supporting her own weight.

  Bella didn’t suffer during her regular visits to her captive; she afforded herself luxury. There was something especially cruel about Bella’s choice to leave a sumptuous armchair a few feet away from Rora’s position. In view, but not in reach.

  Fastened to the wall in this dark, cold, damp space, sleep was difficult to get. Whenever Rora did doze off, she woke up to pain screaming in her limbs and the crashing reality that she was at the mercy of a madwoman without any prospect of ever being freed. Being forced to stare constantly at the plush furniture only heightened her torture.

  Bella had brought the chair into the room so she had somewhere to nestle in comfort while she read bedtime stories to Rora who’d been caught murmuring fairytales to herself in her first days here. Reciting the familiar tales was her subconscious’ attempt to comfort her; it was a distraction technique. One that she didn’t think she’d ever use again after listening to Bella read the stories over and over.

  “Are you asleep, duckie?” Bella asked.

  Rora didn’t even flinch when Bella touched her anymore. The Black Jewel, as Bella was also known, had gotten tired of Rora’s hair covering her face, obstructing her view, so she’d styled it in two plaited pigtails that started at the base of Rora’s skull and draped forward over her shoulders.

  The hairstyle didn’t stop Bella from digging her nails into Rora’s scalp when she wanted attention. In those moments, her jailor would grab handfuls of her hair to pull her head around. Rora doubted she’d get the knots out of her locks, not that she cared. It was difficult to care about anything when life was so downright hopeless.

  Grabbing Rora’s chin, Bella forced her prisoner’s head back and slapped her face a few times. “I want to talk,” Bella said. “Wake up! I want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” Rora mumbled.

  The fairytales were hard enough to hear. Rora hated the sound of Bella’s smooth, innocent voice. No one would know what depravity the woman was capable of just by looking at her or listening to her sweet lilt.

  “Do you think of him? At night… do you think of him?”

  “Who?” Rora asked, knowing exactly who Bella was referring to.

  “Oh, you know who,” Bella said, prodding Rora in the ribs. “Lift up your head… look at me.”

  Rora was given little choice. Bella grabbed the hair on Rora’s head and pulled it up. The weight of her eyelids was difficult to fight, but she held them open just enough to satisfy Bella. “Who?”

  “Exile,” Bella said, smiling at her. “Do you think about him?”

  Every minute of the day. Yes. Not thinking about him was impossible. There was nothing to do except think about the man who’d made her believe he was in love and then broken her heart.

  “What do you want to hear, Bella?” she asked. Her throat was still hoarse from the screaming she’d done in the first couple of days, but she’d long given up hope that there was anyone around who’d hear her or come to her aid. “Just ask me what you want to know.”

  Delight and excited hope danced in the woman’s eyes. “Tell me you love him.”

  “I love him,” she muttered.

  Bella scowled and let go of her captive to put a hand on her own hip. Rora’s neck cracked when her head fell forward, but she let it loll there and didn’t cry out, she was numb to the hurt. “Now I don’t know if you mean that, do you mean that?”

  How she wished she didn’t. His betrayal was more painful than anything Bella could do to her. He’d had a choice, world domination or their love… He’d chosen the former. It might sound like a difficult choice, but to Rora, it had been a no-brainer.

  The saddest part was, although he’d doubted his own integrity, Rora hadn’t. She’d real
ly believed that he would choose her.

  Except Exile hadn’t known when he’d made his choice that the device he thought held the Point was actually worthless. It didn’t hold the computer program meant to facilitate his rise to infinity as he thought it did. All it held was a collection of stock images, landscapes from around the world. Beautiful, but useless.

  Yes, she’d tricked him. But he’d never have known it if he’d only chosen her.

  Rora had intended to go to the Point, alone, to destroy it somehow. Circumstances changed when Exile had decided to tag along on her trip. His choice forced her to make a split-second decision. Did she take him to the worthless device or to the real Point?

  Exile, also known as Strike, had once stated that he feared giving in to temptation and slighting her in favor of the Point. Rora had told herself he wouldn’t ever betray her, but there must have been some part of her that doubted her certainty because she’d chosen to take him to the decoy device.

  Bella leaned in to whisper in Rora’s ear. “I think he’s looking for me.” Bella giggled like a woman sharing a salacious secret with a willing girlfriend. “He just doesn’t know he’s looking for me.”

  Rora had given up trying to figure this woman out. It was tough enough to stay conscious. Deciphering insanity was beyond her.

  Bounding back, Bella began to stroll around the dank space, her hand raised in a variety of gestures, complementing what she was saying. “I can’t wait for the big reveal… when he finds out I’m still alive…” She squealed. “Oh, he’ll be so overjoyed!” For a moment, the jailor reveled in the mental picture she was building about that reunion. Suddenly, her face fell to a scowl and she punched her fists to her hips. “His punishment will have to be particularly special…” Bella turned her eyes to Rora. “He shot me!”

  “I was there,” Rora said, clearing her throat and wishing Strike had aimed a bit lower.

  “We were going to share you,” Bella said. “If you hadn’t been so naughty, we’d have been the perfect foursome. And beautiful Benjamin… he died for you… But you… you didn’t follow him… Do you love him?”

  This woman was obsessed with everything love and sex related. Didn’t matter if it was male or female, or if there was decency involved, Bella saw people as toys to be shared much like children would be expected to share their plastic cars and dolls.

  Rora’s friend and mentor, Benjamin, was gone. Dead by his own hand. He’d committed suicide to prevent the secret they shared getting out into the world. Rora would’ve gone after him if Exile hadn’t stepped in and convinced her not to pull the trigger.

  Standing here, suspended against this wall, Rora wished she’d pulled the trigger. Strike had convinced her that she had something to live for: him. Then she’d shared the secret and he’d stolen it, choosing it over her.

  Rora doubted there was a real choice from his point of view. It was clear now that he didn’t love her. He never had. But she’d really believed his manipulations, even after he repeatedly told her not to.

  Bella appeared in front of her, ducked down, peeking up with excitement glittering in her gaze. “Who are you thinking about? Is it Benjamin… or Exile? Who do you love the most?” When Rora didn’t immediately answer, Bella huffed. “If you won’t be honest and share like I do, then I’ll just have to leave you here to think more about what you want to say to me.”

  Spinning around, Bella flounced off.

  In the initial days, she’d been desperate for Bella to stay just so she could try to convince the nut to free her. Now Rora preferred to be alone. For Bella, this wasn’t about getting answers or satisfying a cause. There was no getting out of here. Rora had figured it out quickly. Bella had brought her here for fun. Because she wanted to play with her.

  There was nothing that Rora could say to get herself out of here, nothing she could give that would guarantee her freedom. Bella just wanted to torment her, and Rora would be here until the woman got bored and killed her.

  Strike had always told her not to dwell in the past, but what else was she supposed to do when the best she could hope to get from the future was a quick death?

  Without any way to measure time, Rora filled the seconds that dragged like days by fighting against the memories that plagued her.

  She’d thought losing her family was the most devastating thing that could ever happen. But at least their abandonment had been involuntary. Her brother, Kyan, had slaughtered their parents and sibling, but he’d spared her.

  Strike hadn’t been so kind. Rora had given her heart to him, and he’d chosen to turn his back on her. He’d chosen to do it.

  Squeezing her eyelids tighter together, she cursed herself for letting her former lover dominate her thoughts. He’d broken her heart for the final time just minutes before Bella had abducted her. But that grief didn’t earn Strike the right to infect her mind.

  Time. Nothing but time. Time to remember. The way his mouth had felt, the way his body had moved over hers. That brooding scowl. His knowing smirk… Rora had fallen in love. Damn her. But she had. She’d fallen in love with a man who couldn’t love her back.

  So caught up in her hatred of her own emotions, Rora didn’t hear the door opening. Usually it clicked and clunked, forcing her to face the pending intrusion. But this time an unfamiliar hand slid onto her face before she’d even known the door was open. The rough texture of the skin and the width of the digits creeping up her cheek made Rora withdraw on a sharp inhale.

  Someone ducked down in front of her; a man… one she didn’t recognize. Who was he?

  No one except Bella had been this close to her since she got here. It was startling to be touched by another person. For a moment, she got lost in the concern of his eyes; there was real empathy there. Was this another con?

  “Aurora Maguire?” The voice came from him. He was talking to her. He sounded… worried. “Aurora, can you hear me? Are you conscious?”

  “Who…” Her throat was so dry it hurt. “Who are you?”

  After a breath of relief, he answered. “A friend. I’m here to help you,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Dropping to a crouch, he did something to loosen the chains from her legs. Rora was confused, dizzy, tired, sore… she couldn’t follow what was going on. He stood to reach over her head. She’d barely registered the metallic sounds above her before her arms were free and she collapsed forward, unable to steady herself.

  “I got ya,” he said, capturing her over his shoulder. “I’ve got you, let’s go.”

  Rora hadn’t eaten for days. She’d had morsels of food fed to her by Bella who enjoyed teasing her with it. Letting her have just a taste and then taking the sustenance away. Water was dripped into her mouth as Bella saw fit. But the Black Jewel had a habit of letting the liquid run down over her captive’s body so she could lick it from Rora’s chin or wherever else it ran to.

  Rora was too out of it to even register pain or where they were going. There was darkness and movement, a floor, stairs, then she was getting wet. Opening her eyes, she tried to lift her head. She saw grass beneath her, felt a breeze on the back of her legs. The wetness falling on her… it was rain. But if it was raining and there was grass that meant… they were outside!

  Tensing, she tried to kick. Where was she? What was going on?

  Breathing in, she was about to scream when she was pulled down from the shoulder of the man carrying her and balanced on her tiptoes. Someone, this stranger, was holding her up. His body was against hers, and there was something cold behind her… What was that?

  Lost, dazed, her head was spinning so fast that she retched.

  Then suddenly she was dipped down and put on her ass, onto something soft… Blinking and disoriented, Rora tried to sit up. A vehicle door opened, a rush of cold air hit her. Wait… her mind caught up with her surroundings, she was in a truck… in the front seat of a truck.

  Something soft hit her body, blinding her. Fighting with what she realized was fabric covering
her face, she pulled it down as she sat up. A rumble vibrated from beneath her and it took a second for her to figure out that the vehicle was moving.

  “Who are you?” she asked. Her voice was weak, but it was stronger than the rest of her. “Where are we going?”

  “Just rest, Aurora, close your eyes and get some sleep. I’ll explain everything later.”

  Her brain told her to argue, to kick and fight, but her body was trembling with shock and any remnant of adrenaline it could muster. Her eyes got heavy and she knew she was done. Whatever was going to happen, whatever this guy wanted, her fate was sealed.

  Curling her legs up to her chest, Rora hooked the blanket over her head and let her body succumb to exhaustion.

  TWO

  “Flame.”

  The word was a faint whisper on her lips before Rora opened her eyes. Once the sound traveled to her ears, she peeled her eyelids apart, only to find herself in darkness again. It wasn’t absolute like it had been before, there was definite ambient light that her eyes could adjust to, so maybe she could pick out some features when they did.

  Finding that she was lying down, she wriggled enough to figure out that she wasn’t attached to that damned wall anymore. Her body was warm, and the air smelled… clean.

  Yes, she wasn’t in the basement anymore, she was loose. This could be her chance to be free.

  A shot of pain fired through her skull when she tried to sit up.

  “Oh, hey, don’t sit up too fast.”

  That was a male voice, one she didn’t know, and couldn’t locate because her eyes were still adjusting. Rolling onto her back, she breathed until she could get her bearings. She was on a bed in, what she’d guess, was a motel room. Having spent so much time in rooms not unlike this one, Rora recognized the stained ceiling, the old-style TV, and the cheap print screwed to the wall. Yep, it was a motel room alright.