Beg Me Angel

  BEG ME ANGEL

  A DARK BAD BOY ROMANCE

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2017 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. BEG ME ANGEL: A DARK ROMANCE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Beg Me Angel: A Dark Romance

  Connect with Leah!

  Also from Leah Holt:

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About Leah Holt

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  Also from Leah Holt:

  CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance

  HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance

  THIRD DATE: A Romantic Comedy

  MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance

  BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance

  COME HOME BAD BOY: A Military Romance Novella

  BODY LOCK: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

  BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  SWEET VIRGIN

  Prologue

  “We have a witness that puts you there, Paxton, so why don't you cut out all this bullshit and just tell us the truth?”

  Balling my fists on the table, my nails cut into the skin, piercing deep. I felt the warmth of the blood as it reached the surface, slowly breaking out and running down my palm. “Fuck you.”

  The detective chuckled, glancing at the two-way mirror with a devilish smirk. “Now that kind of talk isn't going to get you anywhere with me.” Flipping a cigarette into his mouth, he leaned over the table and offered one to me. “We can't be friends, but that doesn't mean we have to be enemies.”

  Shaking my head no, I glowered at him, ready to launch across the table and wrap my hands around his fucking neck.

  Lighting the end, he took a long slow puff, exhaling the smoke in one heavy stream at my face. “Okay, so you want to stick with your story? You think that we're really going to believe you when a witness can identify you as one of the men who kidnapped that young girl?”

  “I didn't kidnap her.”

  That was a small lie. I didn't kidnap her in the way these assholes wanted to make it seem. It was nothing like that. I might have been a monster, but that part of me had died the moment she came into my world.

  “Then what would you call it? Did you invite her over for a slumber party? Did you two roast marshmallows and tell scary stories every night?” Laughing, Detective Roland scooted his chair a little closer, tapping the ash head off his cigarette and into the small silver tray. “Because the way I see it, and honestly, the way the state sees it and everyone else in this damn county; you took her, you held her captive, that constitutes as kidnapping.” Taking another drag, he blew the smoke over my head, aiming it at the long florescent light. “Wouldn't you agree?”

  Baring my teeth, I snarled. He was a fucking prick, trying to make it seem like I had planned the entire thing. I didn't, I wouldn't do that.

  That was the whole reason I had even stowed myself away in that place to begin with.

  I had done it to save the innocent, to keep everyone else safe when my mind began to turn and shift from sane to unstable. I saw it coming, I felt it, and I knew what I was capable of.

  Yes, I had done my fair share of terrorizing people who showed up on my property uninvited, but most of them deserved it.

  And yes, I had come close—so damn close—to letting my dark side take over. I was at the brink, ready to let loose and finally give in to what my whispered thoughts were begging for.

  But I didn't and I could thank her for helping me get back to the other side. An angel had dropped into my arms and shown me that I wasn't the monster I painted myself to be. That there was still good buried deep inside my soul.

  For that, I owed her everything.

  It was wrong for me to try and pretend that she was mine, it was wrong for me to try and keep her hidden away, but that didn't make me responsible for all of it.

  I felt the fire burning in my eyes as all the hate I felt right then was being cast down on the detective. “What part of 'no' don't you understand?” Flattening my hands onto the table, the metal chain from the handcuffs jingled as I moved. “Is this really necessary?” Holding my hands up, I twisted them in the cuffs.

  The detective's lip curled up as a gray plume rolled out of his mouth, tumbling up over his nose and swirling around his head like a dangerous halo. “You're a disturbed, evil man, you kidnapped a defenseless girl, so yeah, I'd say it's necessary.”

  Slamming my fists down, I growled. “She's not a girl, she's a woman. And I didn't fucking kidnap her!” Pointing at his face, the chain cut my arm short, jerking it to a stop. “Did you ask her? Didn't she tell you anything?”

  His eyes expanded as he took in a breath. “Compared to you, she's a girl, and she can't remember anything before waking up at your place, Paxton, you know that. But her friend, yeah the one you said you never saw, she can put you at the scene, identified you as one of the men who picked them up that night. She says you and the other guy took Vera. Now why would she say that if it wasn't true?”

  Throwing my hands to my skull, I squeezed my head in frustration. They had it all wrong, all of it. And none of them wanted to listen to me.

  “Look, we know that Sara's car broke down a few miles away from your cabin, we know when we found Sara that she said there were two men who showed up and offered to help. And wouldn't you know. . .” Pausing, he let his eyes slowly connect with mine. “We found Vera in your home. What we don't know is who your accomplice was. . .” Taking another drag, he bounced his hand in my direction. “Or what you guys gave those girls—” Stopping himself, he let a faint smile hang off his lips. “Sorry, I mean women, what you gave the women to knock them out.”

  Fucking asshole!

  He was belittling me, being a pompous jackass, just trying to piss me off so I would snap. He wanted to be able to point his finger at me and say, 'See, there it is, there's the real you.'

  But I didn't care, it didn't matter how ticked off I ended up getting. I didn't do what he was saying I did. And I would never give him the satisfaction of rolling over just to have a sliver of time knocked off the years they wanted to chain me to.

  Lifting my head, I eyed Detective Roland. “Did Vera tell you I kidnapped her? Did she tell you I held her hostage and
that I forced her to do things she didn't want to do?”

  “Pax—”

  Cutting him off, I screamed. “Did she?!”

  Snorting a high-pitched chuckle, he smiled. “Okay, let's do this again then, take me back to the beginning.” Flipping a page in his notebook, he held the pen firmly in his hands. “Come on, Paxton, I want to hear it again, tell me your story.”

  Chapter One

  Vera

  A heavy arm pressed firmly against the back of my thighs and I could feel the intense pressure of a palm between my shoulder blades as I was protectively pinned against the chest of someone I couldn't see.

  But there was a scent; it was sweet and thick, mixed with citrus notes and juniper. It was warming and confusing all in the same breath as my groggy brain would go in and out of consciousness. Lights would pop on and flicker off, bursting sun-bright and fizzling out like the soft flame of a dying candle.

  The smell of smoke still encased my body, pulling me back into the world, only to stifle the oxygen trying to find my lungs, sending me back into the darkness.

  I wanted to scream and yell, I wanted to kick and punch, except I couldn't. My arms had turned into limp spaghetti and my legs no longer had any feeling left in them.

  What the hell is going on?

  Desperately, I tried to open my eyes, but everything was fuzzy, bleeding together in one giant mess. They wouldn't stay open even though I tried like hell.

  I wanted to see where I was, I wanted to see the face of the arms that were holding me firmly above the forest floor.

  But my lids kept slamming shut as my mind would shut down and blackness would take over. I had no control over my body, no control over my brain, no control over where I was going.

  The feeling of not being able to manipulate my own body and having no sense of up or down; it scared the shit out of me. Stewing inside my own head, I demanded the arms put me down, I screamed at the top of my lungs for him to tell me where he was taking me. . .

  But I was mute and blind, strangled by the sheer weight of an unknown force putting me to sleep.

  The strength of the arms tugged me in closer, jostling my body to get a better grip. I could feel my head joggle around on my neck, rolling back and forth with ease. One of my arms wiggled loose, falling off my side and hanging heavily.

  Using his fingers to flip my arm back up, the man cupped my elbow into my ribs to keep me steady and still. It was so strange to feel all these things happening and have no control over it. I felt paralyzed, trapped inside a box that was also my body.

  A cool breeze whipped across my face as the sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches kicked back off thick brush and tree trunks. Each pop and crackle emulated through the empty space between my ears creating this amiable melody, a crescendo of noise that washed over my body.

  I wanted to lift my head higher, I wanted to twist my neck and see where I was and who was carrying me. And I wanted to know why I couldn't.

  There were so many questions that raped my mind, twisting it into a jumbled rope of knots.

  Why was I being hoisted up without agreeing to it?

  Why did I not recognize the arms around me or the noises that fluttered in when I could hear?

  Why can't I remember where I am?

  Why?

  “Almost there, we're almost there, just hang on, don't give up.” His voice flowed like smooth cognac, soothing my body and mind enough to give in and let him carry me.

  There was comfort in his words, easing my nerves and allowing the final wave of unconsciousness to take hold. I wasn't going to fight it anymore, whatever was stealing me away had finally won.

  Any choice I had was gone, it was stomped out and crushed into a million tiny pieces as I laid trapped in my head, unable to utter a fucking word.

  The world around me faded away as my lids sealed shut and my head rolled into the hardened muscles of the unknown man's chest. I was gone.

  Drowned in sleep.

  Absorbed in my own mind.

  Lost.

  * * *

  My lids popped open, eyes darting around the room. There was this intense feeling of fear settling over me as I looked around and realized I wasn't in my own bed.

  The walls were covered in pictures I didn't recognize, the feel of the coarse flannel blanket that was spread over my body was foreign and not even close to the soft fluff of my floral comforter at home.

  The walls were made of whole logs, stained with a glossy clear finish, filling the air with the smell of stale, old lacquer. The soft glow of an oil lamp washed dark shadows over the knots and divots in the wood as a set of antlers hoisted high in the peak of the cathedral ceiling scratched long claw marks across the eaves.

  Where the hell am I?

  Shooting up in the bed, my fingers curled into the itchy fabric as I blinked rapidly, trying to focus and center myself. I felt woozy and drained, like I had been devoured from the inside out by some sickness.

  Taking in a deep breath, I brushed the hair away from my face and anxiously scanned the floor for my shoes. I had this sudden urge to flee, to take off running and I wasn't sure why.

  Where the fuck am I?

  Did I get wasted last night?

  The idea was unsettling, I wasn't a drinker, and even if I had decided to have a beer, it wouldn't have been enough to cause a total blackout.

  I have to go, I need to get home.

  I need to get out of here.

  Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, every inch of my body ached and grated as I moved. I felt bruising on my hips and a tightness as I bent my legs. Every muscle seemed tense and sore like I had been holding the weight of the world up for days.

  Pulling up the legs of my pants, I glanced over myself, noticing huge, red scrapes on both of my knees and large purple stains spotting my calves. All my joints were swollen and my ankles were nonexistent, caked in dried blood.

  Holy hell. What the fuck did I do?

  I sat in shock, staring at my limbs with utter disbelief. I didn't remember getting hurt, I had no memory of falling or stumbling. Nothing.

  Holding my hands up to my face, dirt was embedded under my nails, covering the tops of my fingers and tinting my palms a deep brown.

  Gripping the base of my neck, I raked my fingers up through my hair, knocking small bits of debris and flakes of leaves into the air, watching them scatter and drop into my lap. My eyes held the tiny particles as they fell in slow motion, coming to settle on my thighs.

  What the fuck happened to me?

  Plucking a pine needle off my leg, I held it between two fingers, rolling it back and forth.

  Why can't I remember anything?

  Whatever had happened, whatever it was that I couldn't drudge up in memory, I knew it couldn't be good. There was no way in hell I would look like this and feel the way I did if it was.

  Taking in a deep breath, I wanted to cough, but I held it in. My chest was on fire, burning the back of my throat like I had just inhaled a huge plume of hot ash. Hugging my ribs, I did my best to cough as gently as I could, but the pain seared my insides like sharp needles, forcing me to hunch forward.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I tried like hell to recount the details of the night, to force my brain to turn like a well oiled machine. But I couldn't remember what happened or how the hell I ended up here in this cabin.

  All the pictures in my head were scattered and mingling, torn and shredded. Nothing was fitting together to make a full image.

  All the snapshots were a Rubik's cube of small blips, rotating over and over in my mind. Tiny, half-fragmented bursts of being in a car, flashes of trees, the soft glow of headlights on dirt, they just kept rolling but ended in nothing.

  Scrunching my eyes shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to put the pictures in some sort of order.

  But it wasn't working. What I could see, what faint memories were there, were so small and so fast, that I couldn't adjust the order or length t
o know what came first or what happened after.

  Planting my palms on the mattress, I stared at the floor, tapping my toes anxiously. Spotting my sneakers against the side of a tall, five drawer dresser, I took a slow breath to try and calm my nerves.

  I don't have time for this, I need to get home.

  Curling my toes into the cold floor, I shuffled my feet towards my shoes and slipped them on. Everything hurt as I moved; each stride, each bend and twist was excruciating, stabbing me over and over under the skin.

  But I wasn't going to let it stop me from getting out. Forcing the pain away, I stood up straight and tried to concentrate on the next move.

  All I have to do is move my feet. . .

  But how the hell do I get out?

  Looking for an escape, I pressed my back against the hard wood wall and absorbed the room around me.

  There were no windows, no closets to hide in, no place to stow myself until I could get a better grip of what I was dealing with. A single door, that was it, that was my only exit.

  Tip-toeing to the door, I pressed my ear against the barrier, trying to listen for any movement or voices, but all I got was silence.

  Whatever stood on the other side was as much a mystery as what the hell landed me there to begin with. And to top it all off, the uncertainty and fear of what the fuck had happened, left me wondering if that mystery was the reason I looked and felt the way I did.

  Fuck! What the hell do I do?

  Do I open the door and just bolt?

  Do I try to sneak away quietly?

  Loose strands of hair fell into my face as I leaned into the wood. The heavy musk of fire and smoke wafted up, sparking a tiny thought. Lifting a lock to my nose, I took in a long deep breath and tried desperately to force the fog away and let the memory shine through.

  A set of deep brown eyes and a thin lipped smile sprung to life inside my head, her laugh followed suit, with the resonant aroma of a joint.

  Sara. . . I was with Sara.

  Were we at a bonfire?

  I could remember the start to my evening and my friend Sara picking me up at home. I remembered driving for a long time as she puffed away on her funny cigarette and I watched the cityscape dissolve around us, trading tall buildings for massive trees.