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  REDD

  A DARK ROMANCE

  Leah Holt

  Copyright © 2018 Leah Holt

  All rights reserved. REDD: 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

  Redd

  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

  BODY LOCK: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

  BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance

  SWEET VIRGIN

  BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance

  PUSHED: A Dark Romance

  KEEP ME: A Dark Romance

  Prologue

  Fingers grazed my neck, touching me so gently I would have missed them if I wasn't sitting in a state of panic, waiting for the tide to change.

  The tension in my muscles, the swelling of fear as it grew in my chest, it took the shape of crashing waves; sweeping my body and tossing me against invisible rocks and sharp coral knives.

  Where the hell am I?

  “So, this is her?” a man asked, lifting a thin strand of hair off my neck and letting it drop free. A cold sweat had glazed my nape, forcing the hair to stick like paste against the surface.

  His large palm slipped down over my head, fingertips nestling deep into my hair. My back stiffened, his touch forcing me to sink down lower on my knees as he pet me like a lost dog at his side.

  Sucking in a thin gulp of air, his fingers tickled against my nape. “Such a pretty little thing.”

  He was standing slightly behind me, his presence a dark shadow holding me stagnant. The sound of his voice was deep and harsh, filled with a million threats I had no doubt he would unleash if he deemed it necessary.

  I knew nothing about him, and yet, trapped within his tone, was everything I needed to know.

  He was the guy in charge, he was the one who harnessed the control of what was going to happen; when it would happen, why it would happen.

  I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to acknowledge the truth of what was going on. But there was no way to ignore it, he was in control of everything, even me.

  Stilling on my knees, afraid and blindfolded, confused and bound; I nervously wondered how I ended up in this place with this man looming over me like a hawk taunting its prey.

  He would touch me ever so slightly, just to let me know he was still there, his voice would be close then far away, just so he could watch the chills scale up and down my limbs as I shook wildly inside my own skin.

  The guy was doing it on purpose, and I didn't have to see him to know it. It was a feeling, it was the sound of a smile on his face as the words left his lips, it was the playful tone in his voice as he spoke about me like I wasn't there listening. He was enjoying this game way too much, and I despised it.

  “Yeah, she's the one you wanted,” another man said from somewhere in the room.

  Ticking my head a hair, I tilted my ear in the direction of the new voice, trying to put a face to his sound. But I didn't recognize him. I didn't recognize either of the men who spoke, and that scared me to death.

  The blindfold tightened around my temples as the man in charge tugged on the knot. “How much do you think she's worth?” The hard soles of his shoes tapped against the floor as he walked around me, clicking with an echo as if he was strolling through a gallery, observing all the fine art.

  I was suspended before him, a living painting of a woman that he scrutinized and deciphered with every move.

  His pace was slow, each step a knot in my heart, each thud a fracture in the muscle, making my body grow weaker and weaker with fear.

  But I didn't slink down and cower, I refused to shatter in my own darkness without seeing the faces of the men who had me in their grasp.

  “Do you think she's worth the debt he owes?” he asked, continuing to prowl around me.

  The heaviness of his feet vibrated up through my calves, sending voice-fed blades through my gut. Every word slashed my chest as if he had cut my heart out and stomped it to death on the floor.

  What debt? Whose debt?

  What the hell is he talking about?

  I was supposed to be in bed, I was supposed to be safe and protected inside the walls that I called home.

  But I wasn't.

  I was here, in an unknown place, with two men I couldn't see and didn't know. I remembered laying my head on the pillow, I remembered pulling the blankets up high and snuggling into the warmth.

  My eyes had closed, and I was pretty sure I had drifted off to asleep, but I couldn't really say for certain. Then it happened. I heard the gentle patter of quiet feet across my carpet. My eyes popped open, hyper aware of the presence hovering over me.

  I didn't move, I felt frozen like a small child trying to stay invisible and protected under their blanket wall.

  Deep breathing penetrated my ears, and hot air spill down my face. I didn't have time to scream or cry out for help. I didn't have time to see a face or eyes, or anything to identify the person standing above me.

  Whoever it was, whoever had stealthily crept into my room like a silent stalker, smothered my mouth and nose with a wet cloth.

  The smell was pungent. It was a mix of salt and bleach that stung my nostrils as I inhaled with a shocked gasp, unwillingly giving passage for that scent to fill my lungs.

  Then nothing. Nothing until right now, right here. The floor was cold against my cheek, my head foggy and clouded as I came to and tried to sit up.

  Only I couldn't. My arms were tied in front of my waist, my ankles were bound together, and my eyes were stripped of sight.

  Forceful hands yanked me off the ground, positioning me on my knees and warning me not to say one fucking word.

  So I didn't speak, I just listened to these two men discussing my worth as if I was a piece of jewelry.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Why the hell am I here like this?

  I was left without answers as I
waited in anticipation of the next move.

  Licking my lips, I traced the deep cracks that opened up across the surface. I had to do something, I had to intervene and try to get out of this.

  I couldn't stay afraid, I couldn't just kneel there helpless and weak. I wasn't going to allow that fear to take control, turning me into a puppet as it became my strings.

  Taking a deep breath, I boldly squared my shoulders, lifting my chin up high. “I'm not worth anything.” I surprised myself with how clear and stern my voice came out. It felt good, I felt empowered, like I was taking a piece of the control for myself.

  But that feeling didn't last, it didn't stay crisp and rigid as I forced a pedestal to take shape at my feet. Instead I fell hard and fast, getting knocked off before I even had the time to catch my balance.

  Sharp nails stabbed into the top of my scalp, tearing my head back. “I wasn't talking to you—was I?” His teeth ground his words into dust, tearing them apart so he could spit them in my face.

  A soft whimper escaped my mouth as I shook my head no. Tipping back towards my heels, I tried to relieve some of the tension by leaning into his hand.

  The man's lips touched the shell of my ear, his breath hot like fire. “If I want you to speak, I will ask you a question. If I want to hear your fucking voice or your fucking opinion—shit—if I want to hear your goddamn pleas, I will tell you to talk and I will tell you to beg. Until then, just kneel right where you are and look pretty.” Throwing my head forward, I felt the weight of his body lift as he took a step back.

  My pulse beat inside my ears, drowning out his voice as the life I had faded away; turning from sweet to bitter, and melting into a puddle around my knees. I knew. . . Nothing would ever be the same.

  I would never be the same.

  This man had lost his sense of humanity, leaving it behind in whatever world he stepped out of. And now he had come to steal mine, he had come to drive me down like a stake in the dirt and take everything away from me.

  Clearing his throat, the man walked around me, his voice floating from one ear to the other. “I asked you a question, Xavier. How much is she worth?”

  I could feel him looking down on me; reading me, devouring numbers inside his head as he calculated my life in bank notes.

  The other man took his turn to speak, asking “How much does he owe you?”

  There was no response. A thick silence filled the room, dense and coarse, causing my skin to prickle.

  I didn't like the silence. I hated the silence.

  My heart drummed like a soldier, pounding with so much force it hurt. Everything hurt. My veins hurt as they surged with hot blood, my muscles hurt as they throbbed and pulsed under the skin, making me well aware of how exposed and vulnerable I truly was.

  “Well,” The man named Xavier went on, ignoring the fact he wasn't given an answer. “Whatever it is, if I were you, I'd consider the debt paid.”

  “Is that really what you think?”

  “Diablo, have I ever lied to you?”

  Diablo?

  No, no it can't be. This isn't happening, it can't be happening.

  The Devil himself has come to claim me.

  My heart raced faster inside my chest, slamming violently against my ribs like a trapped raven. I knew who this man was, everyone knew who this man was.

  He wasn't someone you wanted to get mixed up with. Diablo Batista was someone you avoided if you could. The mafia had worked its way into our city years back. And it had only grown with time, despite the police taking a stand against them and trying to drive them out.

  They were here, they did what they wanted, and telling them no was not an option.

  Diablo was a legend in the world of darkness and fear, second to the king of hell himself.

  Why would he want me? What could he possibly need me for?

  “Thank you, Xavier, you can put her away now.” I heard him walk away, closing a door and leaving me alone with a man that was probably just as bad as he was.

  The urge to yell and beg him to let me go, to try and talk him out of whatever the hell it was he thought he needed me for, it sat on the back of my tongue, melting away and slipping down my throat.

  Diablo hadn't asked me anything. He didn't want to know my name or who I was. He didn't give a shit about the family I was torn from or the life he had come in and ruined.

  He just didn't care.

  I felt something cold as ice brush my calves and slip between my ankles. The binding coiled tighter, popping free with a snap. My legs were loose, breathing with relief as the blood flowed effortlessly back into my toes.

  “Thank you,” I said, angling my head over my shoulder so I could address Xavier directly.

  Maybe if I talk to him, if I get him to see me as a girl, as a person. . . Maybe I can get him to let me go. I have to try.

  “I appreciate it, I really do.” He didn't answer back, all I could hear was his heavy breathing. “I, I have a little sister, she just turned thirteen. Do you have any family?”

  Snatching my wrist, Xavier yanked me to my feet. “Let's go.”

  Swallowing hard, I balanced on my toes as he started to walk, and tried to keep up with him. “Where are you taking me?”

  He wouldn't answer, allowing that horrible silence to take shape.

  “Talk to me, tell me something,” I demanded, trying to stay strong, trying to not show any weakness or fear. “Where are you taking me?”

  “It doesn't matter, you don't get a say in any of this.”

  My eyes began to water, threatening to tear me apart. Blinking slowly behind the blindfold, I took in a deep breath. I was trying so hard not to cry, to keep in all the tears that wanted to soak my cheeks and force me into a hollow shell that used to be my body.

  “Why am I here?”

  Snapping my arm, he turned me on my feet and gripped my shoulders. “I'm going to give you a little advice; stop talking. No one cares about you, and no one is ever going to care about you. You can cry, you can scream, you can weep like a fucking dying flower, no one gives a shit. You have no identity anymore, you have no life. You belong to Diablo.”

  Belong to him? What the hell does that mean?

  I'm not property, I'm not something he can just claim as his.

  “What? What do you mean belong to him? I don't understand. Why does he want me?”

  “Sweetheart, there is no reason I can give you that you're going to want to hear. All you need to know is that man takes what he wants, he gets what he wants, and right now, he's decided it's you.”

  “Fuck you, he can't do this! He can't just take me!” Curling my lip, I snarled like a rabid animal. “My family is going to know I'm missing, they're going to call the cops—”

  “Don't you dare talk to me like that!” I felt a sharp pain as his palm whipped across my cheek, knocking my face to the side.

  The pain swirled around my jaw, unlocking a savage beast from within. No one had ever struck me before, not like that. “My father will come for me you piece of shit.” My voice was horse and scratchy, trembling under unspent tears.

  “No one is coming for you. And as far as your father goes...” Letting out a quick chuckle, he sighed. “You obviously don't know the man you call Dad. If anything, you should be thanking Diablo for not killing your whole family.”

  What? What does my father have to do with this?

  No. No he's lying!

  “You lie!” Screaming, I tried to tear myself free from his grip. But Xavier dug his fingers in harder, piercing the thin skin at the surface.

  Tugging me in close, he whispered into my ear. “I. Never. Lie.” A heavy thud slammed into my stomach, forcing me to drop to my knees. Holding my arms tighter, he held me up, keeping me from falling onto my face. “And you, you're going to learn to keep your fucking mouth shut. But don't worry, Diablo will teach you how to behave.”

  I was struggling to breathe, gasping to catch even a sliver of air. Gulping hard, sounds tumbled out of my mouth. But th
ey weren't screams, they weren't cries or wails for him to stop.

  It was a whimper, like a wounded animal calling out for help, hoping that someone was close by and would come to the rescue.

  Only no one came for me. I was all alone.

  Xavier grunted, and I stayed still, hoping he would just drop me and walk away. I wasn't that lucky. The gates of hell had opened up, swallowing me whole.

  I felt the wind off his fingers as they swooped in hard, tangling into my hair. With one swift pull, I was on my ass being dragged across the floor. Biting down on the inside of my cheek, I cringed as a wave of pain circled around my head.

  Why is he doing this?

  Clenching my hands into tight fists, I wanted to fight. I wanted to hit and punch and kick until I finally connected with something that forced him to let me go.

  But I couldn't. The world was spinning around me as my heels scraped against the hard floor, turning them raw.

  In the darkness of the blindfold, fireworks popped and crackled, exploding like bombs. The bright colors blurred together, turning from fizzled light into zipping streaks.

  Scrunching my nose, I tried to will it away. I wanted the world to stop turning, I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare.

  Lifting my hands to his wrists, I scratched and clawed, kicking my legs in a relentless effort to get him to stop. Nothing worked.

  Coming to a halt, my scalp burned as he used my hair to lift me back onto my feet. Growling like a wild animal, Xavier yanked my head back. “You need to realize that you're going to go where Diablo tells me to put you. You can fight it if you want to, but I have a very simple way to make you understand exactly what you're dealing with.”

  Cold metal pushed hard against my temple as he let out a sickening laugh. “Does this help?” Trailing the barrel of the gun up and down my cheek, he dragged it over my neck and pinned it under my chin. “Because if it doesn't, and you really want to leave, right here, right now, I can do that. One pull, one tiny, little pull on the trigger. . .” Pausing, he pressed his lips against my ear and let out a slow breath. “And you're free.”

  I didn't utter another word. I stayed quiet, shaking my head no. I didn't want to die, not here, not like this.