Ruthless King (Mount Trilogy #1)

My hand may not have the desired effect, but my words stop him cold. And when I say cold, I mean frigid.

Mount’s features harden into the granite mask he never uses on me as he turns to walk away.

“You killed him, didn’t you? And her!”

Once more, Mount ignores my question and slams the door on his way out.





Keira





As soon as the door is closed, I run to grab my purse and my phone. I have zero cell service and no Internet connection, both of which must be controlled by Mount. I wait about two minutes before I head for the door and try the knob.

It turns freely.

In his fury, the all-powerful Mount forgot the most important thing—you can’t keep an unwilling prisoner in an unlocked cell.

I dash into the hallway, retracing the path we used last night until I reach the courtyard. The hallways are silent and empty, and I don’t give a damn if the cameras catch me. My goal is to be out of the gate and gone before he can reach me.

I don’t know if it’s the good Lord smiling down on me or a twist of fate finally working in my favor, but the courtyard gate is secured with a double dead bolt from the inside and not a key.

As soon as I hit the cracked sidewalk of a familiar block of the French Quarter, I take my first breath of freedom, but I know I can’t waste any time appreciating it. I sprint down the street to one where I know there will be cabs waiting, expecting Mount or Scar to yank me back into the shadows at any moment.

But they don’t.

Probably too busy covering up a double homicide.

I slide into the first cab that stops and give the driver the address to my apartment. I know it sounds stupid, but I’m hoping Mount will assume I’m too smart to go there, which will buy me some time. Maybe.

The cabdriver fights traffic while I grasp my apartment keys in my purse until the sharp metal edges make my eyes sting with tears. I have to keep it together, even though I feel like everything is splintering out of control. I can’t risk going to the police because I have no idea who is on Mount’s payroll. More than one, I would bet on that.

Nothing is what it seems. Or maybe everything is exactly as it seems. Mount is the villain here. He manipulated me, and I fell under his spell. End of story.

As soon as we reach my block, I toss some cash at the cabbie and run up the sidewalk to the door. Again, I’m expecting to be captured at any moment, and God knows what they’ll do to me now. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by finding the gun I keep locked in my nightstand drawer. After I have some way to protect myself, I’ll find a cop who isn’t on Mount’s payroll.

As soon as I step into my apartment, I scan every surface in the open kitchen and living room area. It doesn’t look like anyone has been here.

I race to the bedroom, intent on getting the gun and as many rounds as I have left in the box of ammo. I have to be ready because I know he’ll come for me.

When I rush for the nightstand drawer, there’s a box on the bed that brings me to a halt. A black one. The same type that carried each of the sex toys Mount used on me.

I grab it off my bed and fling it at the wall, not caring about the dent it will leave. I expect a vibrator or a butt plug to fall to the floor, but neither do.

What looks like a pair of underwear and a piece of paper flutter to the floor.

What the hell?

Looking over my shoulder out of instinct, I slowly cross the room and crouch down to retrieve them.

I expect the bold handwriting I’ve come to know as Mount’s, but the curving feminine letters were written by my own hand.

I remember writing the note all too vividly.



* * *



Meet me at Bal Masqué in the back alcove at midnight. Don’t say anything. Just take me.





* * *



Reading the familiar words drops me to my knees. I grab black fabric. It’s a thong I bought specifically to match the jeweled bra I wore under my gown for Bal Masqué.

It was just after Brett and I met and we were still in the sexy, flirtatious phase, which quickly turned into a whirlwind courtship. We got married the next day, in large part because of the events of that night.

How could Mount have these?

A chill snakes down my spine as my memory of that night returns.



* * *



Seven Months Earlier

I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but God, it finally felt good to take control and demand what I wanted. What I needed. This was the test, the true test to find out if Brett could be the man who would give me what I’d been missing my whole life.

I slipped into the dark alcove, away from the dancing, hoping he’d gotten the note. If not, I’d be going home disappointed and sexually frustrated.

Basically, my normal state in life, it seemed, especially lately.

I looked down at the watch I wore, even though it didn’t go with my outfit, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the midnight deadline.

I needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take charge, and I didn’t know how I could be any clearer about what I needed other than to spell it out like I did in my note. This was make or break for Brett and me, as far as I was concerned.

Both hands of my watch landed on the twelve, and I turned toward the wall in the hidden alcove that was known for trysts. Honestly, I was lucky to find it empty. Well, not lucky. As soon as people saw me here for the last half hour, they moved off to find another likely location.

I wanted what they were having.

Why was that so much to ask for?

Heavy footsteps sounded on the marble floor behind me and I stilled, keeping my face toward the wall. My nipples peaked and I clenched my thighs together in anticipation. I was already wet and ready, since I’d been thinking about how incredible this night could be.

A hand closed over my bare shoulder, and when I tried to spin around, his other hand gripped me by the waist, pushing me toward the wall before binding my hands with something soft. Silk?

Thank you, Lord!

He didn’t say anything, and the unique scent of citrus mingled with spice and woodsy notes stole over me, kicking up my desire another notch. The hand on my waist gripped the skirt of my long ball gown and yanked it up until cool air rushed over my thong-clad behind. I wondered if he could see the sparkling crystals winking in the dim light. It was probably dumb to buy special lingerie for this occasion, but I was ever the optimist.

He groaned as he cupped my ass and squeezed hard, no hesitation in his touch. Only the dominance I needed.

Again, I tried to turn my head but he wouldn’t let me, wrapping a hand around my throat and pulling me back against him as his decadent scent washed over me.

The gesture said it all. He was in control and I was at his mercy, which was exactly what I wanted.

Releasing my throat, he wrapped my hair in his hand and forced me to bend forward a few more inches.

One foot nudged mine, and I spread my legs for him willingly.