Stolen: A Bad Boy Romance (3 page)

Janson

I hadn’t meant for this to happen, but holding her close in my arms, I didn’t regret anything. She looked so peaceful with her eyes half closed, her breathing heavy. She was falling asleep in my arms and I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to breathe. It might cause her to shift away from me. So many nights I spent clutching my pillows, my screams, my terror keeping me from sleep, but with her in my arms, my eyelids already felt heavy. A woman in my arms, that was the only thing that kept the demons of the night away. The only thing that kept the truth of my life from overwhelming me.

I had a feeling it was going to be one of my few peaceful nights.

“Janson?” Kathryn murmured, her voice trailing off at the end of my name.

“What, Kat?” I asked as I brushed back a strand of her hair.

“You can’t tell Greyson. You can’t tell anyone.” She gripped me tighter and her breathing got heavier. We’d already gone over this once, but she was scared.

I could tell by the look in her eyes that she was terrified of him finding out.

His name was like ice injected into my veins. Fuck. He was going to kill me. If he didn’t, his father would. And I wasn’t exaggerating. They’d torture me, then tie cement blocks to my feet and leave me in the fucking Bay.

I knew that was the truth because I’d been the one to tie the blocks, I’d seen the terrified faces of men who crossed the family and didn’t live to do it twice.

I knew the kind of animalistic rage that pushed a man to murder. Greyson was no stranger to slaughter and neither was I.

So this was going to have to remain our little secret.

“I won’t utter a word,” I said as I clutched her. I knew this was a mistake, but I could deal with it in the morning. “Like we agreed.”

I never expected this, never expected to have a secret I needed so desperately to keep. I’d stolen her from her family, I’d taken her away into my own little world, and there was no way I was going to let her go. My possessive nature took over as I clung to her and I knew the truth.  I hadn’t gotten enough of her, not yet.

I could deal with it all in the morning.

Chapter Three

Kathryn

I wanted to stay. I wanted to wake him up and let him know that I was still there. That I wanted him. But the rush of my heartbeat, the anxiety in my gut, it all told me I needed to leave. I needed to take off and never look back.

He was a part of the people who were trying to cage me. To take away my freedom. Staying here would just hasten the process.

I needed to get out. I needed to breathe.

I needed my violin.

Music. Music was what I needed.

I pushed his arm up above me so that it was hanging in the air, supported by my own hand, and slipped underneath it, letting it down slowly. Janson was still sleeping, the flutter of his eyelids the only sign he felt me move. I was going to have to be careful. I slid off the bed and onto the floor, then stood, tiptoeing out of the room.

I was always good at being stealthy. One of the nice things about not being noticed at home was that if I was quiet enough, I could escape without anyone knowing I was even gone.

I opened room after room until I found one that looked like it might have some women’s clothing in it. Each one was an office, a very masculine bedroom, or a studio, except this one. The dusty rose walls and the jewelry display let me know that I might be able to find something.

I opened drawer after drawer as quietly as possible, grabbing panties, a sports bra, an athletic shirt, and finally a pair of yoga pants that were probably a size too big, but would fit for my purposes.

There was a whole wardrobe here. He could’ve found me anything else to wear but that slinky little nightgown he picked out for me.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d made a decision last night.

I dressed as quickly as possible and then rooted around in the closet until I found a pair of sneakers that didn’t have pink or bright neon on them. They were an old black pair, but they would have to do.

I needed to get my ass back to the collective. Moose would be looking for me at studio time, and my violin was still there.

I couldn’t just leave my violin, it was too important. It was my best friend.

I’d been a loner through high school, choosing music over people, but I always had my violin. My mother started me on the violin, but this one was different. A gift from my uncle and spectacularly fancy it was “something to aspire to.”

I’d mastered the loaner I learned on and was using it by my second year in. I’d taken perfect care of it, too, never let it get too humid, always made sure it was in good shape. I’d babied that thing. I proved I was worth the Guarneri he purchased for me.

And then I abandoned it when Janson came calling.

I ground my teeth. I’d forgotten a lot of priorities when I saw him. When I got the opportunity to take what I wanted. Now I had it. I had him. He’d taken my virginity, and I never even told him. Nineteen and a virgin, I already felt like such a fool. If he’d known, he may not have gone through with it, and I wanted him so bad.

Truth be told, I still wanted the big barrel-chested man sleeping in the next room. Fuck. I needed to get the hell away from here, away from him, and clear my head.

It was either that or crawl on top of him and demand round two of last night’s escapades.

I slipped out of the spare bedroom and down the hall to the living room. He’d left his wallet in a bowl by the door. I saw him put it there when he came in. If it was still there, I could probably grab enough cash for a cab and not have to take the bus. The subway didn’t go to Humboldt Park, and I wanted nothing to do with the bus. Or walking. It was too dangerous in the part where Moose’s row house was.

I spotted the wallet exactly where he left it and rifled through it, finding exactly what I needed. I took about half the cash in the billfold and stuck it in the pocket of the yoga pants before I headed out.

I thought to leave a note, but at the last moment I decided against it.

I didn’t even know if I was going to come back.

Janson

The peaceful sleep I’d felt faded away to the terror of a dream.
My father and his cigars, burning them into my body.
I reached for Kathryn, to hold her close to me and push away the dream, but she wasn’t there. Her body wasn’t there to keep me warm. I sat up like a shot, my eyes open, and looked around. Maybe she just scooched to the very end of the bed.

Fuck. She wasn’t in the bedroom either.

“Kat? Kathryn?” I called out across the condo. No response. I got up and did a quick survey of the apartment. She was nowhere to be found.

Greyson warned me that it wouldn’t be so easy to keep her in the condo. He said she was spirited. Fuck.

Fuck. She was fucking gone. I’d checked the entire apartment top to bottom. I knew she’d taken off.

I fucking lost Greyson’s kid sister.

What was worse was that I fucked her. I’d taken her into my bed and I let her see me. All of me.

I was fucking dead and somehow, I didn’t care. I was glad about what I did, I had no regrets.

Ironic, wasn’t it? I thought. Greyson fucking destroyed my sister, but I touched his and I’d lose a finger for it. Or my cock.

I swallowed hard and grabbed my phone, checking the voicemails. Three from Greyson.

I knew if I didn’t call him back soon he was going to get impatient.

I grabbed my phone and dialed.

“How’s she doing?” he asked and I paused, long.

“She’s fine.” She was, at least the last time I saw her.

“She slipped you, didn’t she?” I could almost hear his ‘I told you so’ through the phone. What a fucking asshole. At least he wasn’t pissed.

“You told me this wouldn’t be so easy.”

I could hear him chuckle in the background. I let out a small breath of relief. I never knew what he was going to fucking think. Especially since Joanna walked into his life and turned his world upside down.

I didn’t know what I thought of her; she brought out a softness in him that was dangerous. I’d seen it before—he had a clear weakness, one that could be exploited, and it would come back to haunt him. To haunt us. I couldn’t dismiss her completely, though, because he also had a protective fierceness that I knew he needed. Especially if he was going to run the family.

I could be coldhearted enough for us both.

“I’ll fucking get her and bring her back,” I said, the anger in my veins ready to burst.

“I told you, you might have to hogtie her.”

“I’ll do it if I have to, but we’ll try diplomacy first.”

If that didn’t work, I would fucking throw that shit right out the window.

***

“Where the fuck is she?” I asked, the throat of the kid I had against the wall so small under my hands. I could crush it easily. I’d done it to bigger men with little trouble.

But I had to show restraint. I didn’t want to involve my cousin, didn’t want to get his family up in my business. They knew I was here, and I promised I’d keep it quiet while I was in Chicago. Not to cause problems.

“Who?” he squeaked out. The boy squirmed under me and I swear to god, he was about to piss himself.

“Kathryn. Kat. New girl, older teenager, deep red hair, thin?” I said slowly, waiting for him to realize who I was talking about.

“Oh, the violin girl? The one Moose wants to bang?” He chuckled. He didn’t fully appreciate the situation. I squeezed that neck just a little harder, cutting off his breath in short bursts.

Motherfucker. The rage that boiled through me was so much more personal. Unexpected.

No one was going to touch her but me.

I hadn’t admitted it, not out loud, not yet, but I knew it as soon as I thought it. Kathryn was mine. She was going to be mine. I had to protect her at all costs.

“She’s at the studio, man! Over on Potomac. Old house converted. Funkyjunk.”

I dropped him on his ass and turned in order to storm out of the building. I had too much shit to do to stand around. I needed to go and get her. Drag her back if need be.

I wasn’t fucking playing around anymore.

Protect the family, it was part of my directive, but this was different. This had nothing to do with the family and everything to do with her. With us.

I wasn’t going to just let her walk away from what we shared last night. I wasn’t going to be able to survive the hunger I held deep inside for her.

Kathryn

“There you are, punk. Thought you weren’t coming in.” Moose smiled wide at me. “Didn’t see you around the collective this morning. Don’t you look fancy? All clean and shit.”

He looked it himself. He didn’t sleep at the collective row house, but had an apartment above the studio. It’s where I showered normally, where a lot of us did.

“Had some family matters to attend to,” I said. “You bring my fiddle?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” He sipped his coffee then ran his hand through his beard. It came out about two inches from his face and was impeccably groomed. They called him Moose because of his slight Canadian accent and his lumberjack feel. I just went along with it. “So, you going to play with me tonight?” he asked as he looked me over.

He always gave me that same creepy look, like he wanted to eat me or some shit. Thank god he never approached me.

He was asking me to play with him down in the arts district. He was an expert at finding a spot, playing it, avoiding the beat cops. I’d gone down a couple of times with him and the group. In fact, that was how he found me. I was staying in Chicago with some friends from high school, playing music on a street corner, when he came upon me.

I got to know him and eventually I moved into the damn co-op. My friends were all in college, they’d been too busy to hang, and I knew couch surfing could only last for so long.

“What pieces do you want to do?” I asked. I could use a cut of the money. Might be enough to get me a bus ticket to the next city over. Moose said he had friends in Indianapolis.

Why in the hell are you thinking about bailing? He’ll find you. They’ll always find you.
I waved the thought away as I listened to Moose ramble off a bunch of pieces he thought the tourists would love. College kids were coming in this time of year, setting up their housing and getting started with classes, so they would make good targets. Not to mention all the people who visited the windy city.

It was so different from Baltimore. Sometimes, I missed the smell of the Bay, the humidity of the ocean that hung over us, and the feel of a city that had so much grit it was coming out of my ears. But Chicago was beautiful, and it had its fair share of grit.

It was a good second home.

“Let’s do a rehearsal of the music and then get in there.”

I’d written a few original songs for the compilation tape he was doing. It was meant to be my audition album. The kind of thing I could use in order to get gig after gig. At first, when he offered me the chance, I thought he was full of shit. But I had to hand it to Moose, he really seemed like the kind of guy who could get shit done. He had his own little studio, a group of people who were as dedicated to music as we were, and he hadn’t lied to me about giving me practice time and studio time.

I ran through the first song one time with him and then hopped into the studio. It was a little room he’d prepped himself with material to soundproof it.

As soon as I stepped into that room, I felt like myself. I opened my case and got my violin out, my fingers touching the soft, silky wood of it. I knew as soon as I started playing I would lose myself. Lose all the drama of last night and all the memories of him touching my body.

I could just be in the moment. I didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to figure anything out.

This was why I was here. Why I stayed in Chicago.

“All right, start whenever you are ready.” Moose sat back and watched me through the glass.

As soon as I started, I felt the pull of the strings, the vibrations of the music right into my jaw, and I was lost.

Completely and entirely lost to my music. The feel of my fingers on the strings, the lack of frets there making it so much smoother than guitars or mandolins. It was my personal heaven.

Until I looked up and saw Janson storming towards me.