I moved closer, hoping to hear the other person’s voice. The only reply from him was a grunt. I finally got to the door and peeked through the crack. I could see her with her arms crossed, a disgruntled look on her face, leaning against a long wooden table in her black lingerie.
Considering there were no windows, we had to be in a basement. However, that wasn’t my biggest concerned. For when she moved away from the table, I got a good view of the ropes and chains on both ends, stained red. The source of the stale blood smell. It wafted to my nose and I threw a hand over my mouth to stop from gagging. I breathed through my mouth, trying desperately to think up an escape plan. There were two of them and only one of me. I couldn’t even see the stairs leading to the upper levels. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Georgia stormed over to a corner, but I couldn’t see that far. “Are you even listening? Turn around and talk to me, dammit!” The next thing I heard was a slap and the sound of her choking. With a hand around her throat, she was hauled back to the table and I hid out of sight, putting my back against the wall.
“Why don’t you shut the fuck up for once,” he growled. Clothes ripped and she yelped, but it wasn’t in pain.
“Oh my God, yes,” she moaned.
The sound of bodies smacking together made me sick. What the hell just happened? I peered around the side and that was when I got a good look at the man who was fucking her from behind, jeans halfway down his legs. No fucking way. I may have only seen the guy once, but he was the spitting image of his father.
Drake’s son. God, what was his name . . . Blaine? Eww, she was fucking her stepson. You have got to be kidding me. In complete and utter shock, I couldn’t take my eyes away from the disgusting display. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the whole scheme was about. Drake was probably the clueless bastard in the whole thing.
Blaine was done getting his jollies in just a few seconds, but he held her down on the table with a hand at her neck. She tried to lift up, but he forced her back down. “When are you going to stop wearing condoms? I want to feel you come inside me.”
His other fist clenched. “You mean like my father does? Did he come inside you when you fucked him last night?” I could hear the anger in his voice and I held back a gasp. The whole situation was too fucked up to even wrap my head around.
“Blaine, that’s not . . . I didn’t . . .”
He pulled out of her and before I could even attempt to help, he swiftly grabbed the knife on the table and slid it across her throat. I slapped a hand over my mouth and closed my eyes, trying hard to keep from making a sound. It had to be a bad dream. Surely, I didn’t just see that happen? Unfortunately, I could hear Georgia choking on her own blood and then the sound of her body as it crashed to the floor.
Think, Aylee. I had to get out of there, but how? Opening my eyes, I took a deep breath and peered through the crack again. Blaine ripped off the condom and wrapped it in a paper towel before shoving it in his jeans pocket. The bloody knife was on the table but still within his reach. If I raced out now, he could easily grasp it and attack.
“I know you’re watching,” he called out. Eyes wide, I stepped back, my pulse racing. His eyes transfixed on mine through the crack and he smiled. “Did you like the show?” Strolling to the door, he pushed it open and leaned against the frame, all cool and casual as if he didn’t just kill someone. His hands were covered in blood and he had droplets on his chest and face. The metallic smell of it made me nauseated. “Can’t speak?” he asked, eyes gleaming.
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted in amusement. “No, you can’t speak? Or no, you didn’t like the show?”
“No, I didn’t like the show. Happy?” I huffed.
The wolfish smile on his face spread wider as he stepped forward. “Much,” he said, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. “I couldn’t wait to get rid of that cunt. She never knew when to keep her mouth shut.”
“So it was her who hit me over the head and you with Jason? Where is he?”