Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (32 page)

“Slow down, Noelle,” an unfamiliar voice says as he grips my hips.

I take a step back so he has to let go of me, my hand already reaching for the knob of the door. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Though I’m pretty sure we’re about to get a lot closer.”

“I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“You’ll want to make time for this, sweetheart. I promise.”

His promise makes my stomach roll, especially when he smiles and inches closer. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious what you can do for me?”

“What do you need?”

“Need is a strong word, Noelle. There are so many things I
need
, but maybe we should focus on what I
want
first. Okay?”

I take a step backward and turn the knob, but it’s locked. With my back against it, I can’t go anywhere else. “What do you want?”

He takes my hand off the door and says, “Unlock it. I want you to let me inside.”

My hands shake as I reach into my purse for my house key. Lane doesn’t have a copy on his keychain. Each move I make, he watches me, eyeing me from head to toe.

Once I have it in my hand, he takes it from me and opens the door. “Aren’t you going to welcome me?”

“Come in,” I whisper.

“Good girl, Noelle.”

Each step forward he takes, I take one in the opposite direction, afraid to turn my back on him for even a second. I keep moving until the backs of my knees are against the couch cushions. Again, I’m trapped.

He leans even closer so I have no choice but to sit down. When I do, he towers over me, laughing when I bring my knees to my chest in a pathetic attempt to protect myself.

“Your fear only makes this better for me,” he whispers.

My heart hammers wildly in my chest. The door is still partially open, but there’s no way I can get around him to get to it. For all I know, there’s someone else waiting outside who could hurt me even more. “What do you want?” I ask him.

“I want you to play a little game with me.”

“What kind of game?”

“The kind where you tell me what I want to know. If you do that, I won’t hurt you. Not too bad, anyway.”

“What do you want to know?”

Smirking, he reaches for my face. I cringe when his dirty fingertips skim my cheek, but they don’t linger there long. He wraps a piece of my hair around his fingers, gently at first. As he starts to laugh, he tugs so hard my scalp screams. “I want you to tell me where she is,” he hisses, leaving his spit on my lips.

“Who?” I ask, even though there’s really only one person he could be looking for.

“Lemon. Where is she?”

Suddenly, I have to make a choice and decide if my safety is more important than hers. I’d never want anything to happen to Lane’s sister—it would crush him—but lying to this man could make it ten times worse on me. That’s why, in a split-second decision, I tell him, “She’s in New York.”

He pulls a bigger handful of my hair, making me cry out in pain. “Where?”

“With a friend. In the Bronx.”

“Your eyes are giving you away, Noelle. You’re fuckin’ lying to me. Do you know what happens to girls who lie?”

I shake my head, not wanting to find out.

He tells me anyway, laughing maniacally before saying, “I kill them.”

I hate myself when the truth sneaks out all on its own. “She’s at The Behavioral Center in Manhattan. She’s getting help, Rusty.”

Like he didn’t expect me to say his name, he pushes my head against the back of the couch, his fingers gripping my throat so hard I can barely breathe. “What did she tell you about me?”

He eases up the slightest bit so I can answer him. It still takes me a second to swallow my own spit. “She told me you took her in after Trey went to jail. And that you got her pregnant.”

“I didn’t do shit to her. She’s the one who wanted it. Went on and on about how a baby would make us a family, and then the bitch ran away once she got it.”

“But you hurt her.” His story is the complete opposite of what Lemon told us. I can’t believe a word he says. Not when she was bloody and bruised when she showed up at the condo.

“She told you I hit her?”

“She didn’t have to. Her eye was black and blue, Rusty. And I believe her because you’re hurting me.”

He backhands me across the face, setting my cheek on fire. I try to cover my face with my hands, but he grabs me by the wrists, shaking me to make a point. “I haven’t hurt you yet, Noelle. Trust me.”

When he sees me cringe, he smiles again as he pulls me off the couch. “What are you doing?”

He pushes me onto the staircase until I’m sitting on one of the steps. “Since you two loved being tied up so much, you shouldn’t mind this. Maybe it’ll even turn you on.”

“You were watching us?”

“I know what you sound like when you’re turned on. The way your voice gets a little gritty when you come. I’ve heard it all, Noelle.”

The ropes he’s using are so coarse it feels like tiny pieces of my skin are being ripped off as he wraps them around me, pulling ten times harder than Lane ever did. Nothing about the way Rusty moves is gentle or apologetic, only terrifying.

“How long have you been spying on us?”

“Long enough to want to fuck you myself.”

The bile in my stomach creeps up my throat, and I almost lose the battle to keep it inside. But I have to keep him talking. I have to find out as much as I can in case I make it out of here alive. “I haven’t been here in weeks. You knew I was coming here today?”

“Yes. You’d think the drummer of Midnight Fate would have better security. So, if you want to blame someone for being in this situation, blame him.”

As soon as the last knot is secure, he steps back and admires his work. “Who did it better? Lane or me?”

I ignore his perverted joke. I’m tied so tightly, I’m worried the rope’s cutting off the circulation to my hands. I’m even more worried about the hunger in his eyes and the disdain in his body language.

Just as I was bracing for more, he grabs my purse off the couch and rummages through it, taking the little bit of cash I have in my wallet along with all my credit cards. My cell phone rings, and he laughs when he holds it up. “Should I take the call? He’d probably shit his damn pants if he heard my voice.”

And come here and kill you.

Though he’s tempted to fuck with Lane, he lets the call go to voice mail before tucking it in his back pocket. He strides back to me and pulls my engagement ring off my finger. It’s the one thing he could take that would make me lose control.

“Please, don’t take my ring,” I beg him. “You can have everything else.”

Inches from my face, his tobacco-laced breath makes me cringe. His yellowing teeth are like traffic lights, warning me to proceed with caution. “Now I want it even more—especially if it’s gonna make you cry.”

“Why do I even matter to you? Lemon’s the one you want.”

“Because Lane has had it coming to him for years. Plus, I figured you’d talk.” He stares at my ring and shoves it in his pocket with the rest of the stuff he took from me. “Now, about taking whatever else I want.”

The innuendo hangs in the air between us and the closer he gets to me, the more my body revolts. Before I can say a word, I’m throwing up all over him.

“You bitch!” He yells so loud I pray the neighbors heard him.

He pulls his shirt over his head and I hear the water running in the bathroom. Afraid of what he’ll do to me when he comes back out, I tug on the ropes with all my might, even trying to use my mouth to loosen them. All that does is make my lips bleed.

When I hear Rusty’s boots on the floor again, I try one last time to kick the post free from the bannister, but I’m at such an odd angle my shoe barely taps the wood.

Rusty rounds the corner, laughing when he sees me give up. “It ain’t happenin’. Not unless you’re the Hulk.”

My frustrations brings out my attitude, and I regret it as soon as I tell him, “I’m stronger than you think.”

With more determination than before, he grabs my throat again. This time, I’m positive he’s going to choke me to death. But the longer he holds on to me, and the harder he squeezes, the more the firestorm brewing behind his eyes dies down. The second he begins to waver, he eases up. “As much as I’d like to, you’re not worth it, Noelle. Not when I have more important business to take care of.”

He practically throws my head against the stairs, and my back aches when the lip of the wood hits me across my spine. All I care about is letting my lungs fill with the oxygen they’ve been deprived of. Gasping, I pray he leaves. I’d rather sit here tied up and alone than have him keep putting his hands on me.

Rusty’s takes one last look around, glancing over his shoulder as my dizziness makes me nauseous again. For the briefest of seconds, we make eye contact, and I think he might regret what he’s done. But as quickly as his remorse crept up on him, it vanishes. It makes me sick he’s going to be a father. Men like him don’t deserve to have that title.

He shoves his bandana between my lips and ties it tightly behind my head. “Tell Lane if he messes with my girl again, I’ll find you, Noelle. And when I leave, you won’t be watching me.”

Even though I’m bound and gagged, when the door slams, I pray it doesn’t open back up.

My mouth’s already so dry, and the material soaks up what little saliva I have left in my mouth. My throat aches, my wrists are starting to bleed from the rope burn, and all I can do is sit here and wait. I wait for someone to save me. Or I wait for someone else to come and finish me off. Like it or not, my fate’s in Rusty’s hands now.

The next hour feels more like three. The one after that, at least twenty-four. By the time the sun sets and the house grows darker, I feel like I’m trapped inside my cousin’s mangled car all over again—unable to move or help myself.

It’s then I glance at my ring finger. Rusty could have taken anything and I wouldn’t have cared—it’s all just stuff—but the one item that has real, genuine meaning is gone. And I pray my sadness is so strong, Lane can feel me mourning the loss all the way in New York.

It’s just after midnight by the time we finish recording. The new music is a different sound for Midnight Fate, but the more we go over it, the more potential we uncover. “I need a shower.”

“I’m tired as fuck,” Easton says as he sips his cup of hot tea. His voice is shot, but you’d never know it. He sang better and better as the night went on, only gaining momentum as we went. If Dom hadn’t pulled the plug on the session, we’d probably still be in there, driving our bodies further into the ground.

“What the hell’s going on?” Dom asks when Easton tries to pull up in front of our building. There’s a barrage of media on one side of the street and a slew of cops on the other, their cars blocking off the entrance to the parking garage.

“This doesn’t look good.”

After showing them our IDs, the officer at the entrance checks his papers, letting us through the gates once he finds our names on the list.

Before we even get out of the car, I dial Reed’s number. As soon as he picks up, I hear enough commotion on the other end of the line to figure out the drama is our problem. Before he says a word, I hang up, practically running to the elevators.