Page 7 of Taken In Trade
At least my resting bitch face is coming in handy for something.
The door to the hotel room slams open, and Magnum hits his feet. It makes his scent burst in the air, and I don’t know how I’m just getting the first hints of it.
Do alphas use scent-blocking soap?
Does that even make sense?
I take suppressants to block my heats, and they deaden my sense of smell considerably. I’m still normally able to pick up traces of a person’s scent, so maybe the drugs have affected more than just my thought process and balance.
Magnum smells like lemon with sweet tinges of honey. There are other notes, and my nose desperately wants to find out what they are, but an unfamiliar man comes into the room.
Waking up to find Magnum was disturbing, but I would have been terrified if the new guy was the one watching over me. Ashiver runs down my spine. He has a gnarly scar on the front of his throat and chest that disappears into the top of his T-shirt and others on his jaw and the sides of his neck.
Someone fucked him up to the point I’m surprised he was able to heal from his injuries.
“She’s finally awake,” the newcomer says in a raspy tone that grates on my eardrums.
Whoever attacked him had a good reason. I don’t know what the justification was, but something about him makes my skin crawl.
Magnum crosses the room, meeting the guy near the end of the bed. He leans close, whispering something I can’t hear.
The new guy eyes me with a little too much interest, and I lean deeper into the pillows behind me, trying to get farther away from him. I should have begged Magnum to help me get out when I had the chance.
If I have to be stuck with one of them, it’s not a question—I’d pick Magnum.
Please tell me this isn’t a shift change.
If that other guy plans to take over watching me, I will legitimately beg Magnum to stay. It probably won’t do anything, but I’ll still try.
An even scarier thought crosses my mind. Thank God Magnum was the one who watched over me while I slept. I would not want the new guy anywhere near my unconscious body.
Magnum’s hand lands on the man’s shoulder, spinning him toward the door. They step outside the room, but one of them stops the door from clicking closed by shoving their boot in the way.
Dammit.
Why couldn’t they have been stupid enough to leave me completely unsupervised?
This hotel room has a phone. This would have been my perfect opportunity to use it.
My stomach tightens, and the few minutes Magnum is gone feel like an eternity.
He comes back inside the hotel room alone.
I exhale, nodding.
Jesus Christ.
The Stockholm syndrome is strong.
He grabs the chair and angles it more toward the door. It leaves us facing the same direction.
“Who was that?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Blade.” He kicks his boots up, resting them on the edge of the bed as he stretches out. “He’s the president of our motorcycle club. It’s his bullshit that led to why we took you. We needed a backup plan in case the original didn’t pan out.” Something in his tone tells me he’s not pleased with the way everything is playing out, but that doesn’t mean he’ll flip on his friends to help me.
My father’s men don’t like every order. They still follow his commands without question.
“Looks like we’ve got a few hours to kill,” Magnum says, scratching his jaw. “I’m bored. Come on, fill me in on the gossip. We caught you leaving Moretti’s mansion. You got something going on with him? I promise not to tell anybody.”
