The Kidnapping of Roan Sinclair

by Ashlyn Drewek

I was tired of him running every time I tried to talk to him, because having a real heart-to-heart with your twenty-two year old son was apparently the most horrifying thing on the planet. It’s why I never even bothered trying to tell him I was gay. His head probably would have exploded.

“What?” I made a face and snatched the wallet out of his hand, reading the name on the driver’s license. Roan Sinclair.

“Sinclair...” My lips pursed as names cycled through my head. Men I’d killed, men I’d tortured, men I’d stalked. Men like Phillip Sinclair, the one who, for all intents and purposes, owned Northern Illinois Bank & Trust.

Roan Sinclair — blond and blue-eyed, with a smile that undoubtedly got him whatever he wanted. A little ray of sunshine if I ever saw one. The kid’s address was the same as his father’s but after all of the surveillance I did on the mansion, I knew he didn’t live there.

“Get me everything you can on Roan Sinclair and Braeburn University,” I said, handing the wallet back to Eduard. “We might be able to salvage this fuck up after all.”

There was no one behind me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched.

I constantly had moments like this, where I would have bet money someone was watching me. There were times I swore I saw those pale blue eyes in the middle of a crowd.

He radiated warmth no matter what he was doing. And like the sun, he seemed to pull everyone around him into his orbit. It was strange — the complete opposite of the world I lived in. You couldn’t afford to be warm and kind. Those traits would get you killed in a heartbeat like the fool you were.

Roan finished his game and went home for a much-needed shower, which I was privy to thanks to a conveniently placed camera in the neighbor’s tree.

No surprise, his ass was as perfect as the rest of him — round, defined, and just asking to be grabbed.

Sadness — or any feeling, really — didn’t register with me. The only acceptable feeling in my world was anger.

You need a hug babe

If he wasn’t a fucking kidnapper, I would have said he was hot. Lie. He was hot, even if he was a kidnapper. But he lost major points for being a criminal.

“Thank you,” I murmured. Did I just thank my jailer? Seriously?

A blue so pale and shocking against black lashes, they almost looked inhuman. Eyes like that were wasted on an asshole like him.

“Oh, is that so? The big, bad Aleksandr Vassiliev is a baby sitter now?” Yuri stepped forward, lifting his chin. “So much for the Wolf of Verkhoyansk.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled in my ear, bringing about another wave of goosebumps. “I am not here to make your life easier. I am not your friend. Don’t think for one second good manners will spare you.”

Tall, dark, and murdery were not admirable traits. He wasn’t even nice. Nice to look at, but not a nice person.

And we’d both need some extra clothes if we wanted to be comfortable. Comfortable? Christ Almighty. Who gave a fuck if he was comfortable?

He was a fucking meal ticket, Sasha, nothing more. He was your captive. And he was a he. One made him off limits — the other made him a death sentence.

Staring at the rundown motel across the street, I lit a cigarette. Just looking at it made my skin crawl. I’d lived in worse, but it was close enough to resurrect memories of flea bites and freezing cold — all shit I purposely chose to forget.

“You are not welcome,” I said, between chewing. There. Pain in the ass. Beat you to it this time.

Strolling out in nothing but a towel, Sasha was every bit the bad boy of my fantasies. His clothes hadn’t disguised how muscular he was, but watching droplets of water roll through those ridges and valleys was something else altogether.

It was hot. And terrifying. Mostly hot. No, terrifying. Crazy, Russian criminals were terrifying, Roan. But also really fucking hot.

“I want to use you…” He inhaled before he grabbed either side of my jaw and yanked my face toward his so we were nose-to-nose. “To get what I want…” He was glaring, but his pupils were so big I could hardly see the icy blue I was used to. “And then? I never want to see you again.”

“But he’s American,” Eduard said after a minute, making a face. “Americans like their children.”

Big dicks were nice and all until they cut off your airway, and I wanted to make sure I made this worth his while.

There was more vodka in the car, I knew that. And a fresh pack of cigarettes. Those were safe ways to pass the time, instead of having your hostage suck you off while hiding out from the cops.

“Or maybe I’ll break your jaw so you stop asking questions.” That damnable smirk was back, along with an impish sparkle in his eyes. “If you break my jaw, I can’t give you any more blowjobs.”

Ivan shrugged, hooking his thumbs in his pockets. “I heard it was because when he was ten years old, he killed a man twice his age. They said he cut him into little pieces and fed him to his pet wolf.”

What the…? The way Sasha hauled ass out of the basement, you’d think he was late to a meeting with Putin himself.

“I know whenever you get close to me, you can’t keep your hands off of me. I bet you’re hard right now.”

“So just how hard are you? Do you need to throw me around first, or is the verbal banter enough?”

“You can’t help who you love any more than you can help how tall you are or what color your skin is. It’s not a fucking choice, it just is.”

I wasn’t kissing him so much as being kissed, with anger and need and desperation. The hand on my throat slipped around to the back, threading through my hair to cradle the back of my head.

He flipped positions so his head was up by mine and we were laying side by side, our forearms resting against one another. It was probably the closest thing to snuggling in his fucked up world, but it still made me smile.

“I should have brought the duct tape,” he sighed. “Should have brought the handcuffs.” I rolled over and grabbed his face, kissing him again.

“Are you ticklish?” His eyes lit up with a mischievous spark. “I will break your fucking hand if you touch me like that again. Understood?”

“It was self-defense,” I added. “Life is not kind in Verkhoyansk.” “That’s where you’re from?” I nodded. “So how did you end up here?” “Do ever stop talking?”

“Does anything bother you?” “Yeah.” I flicked some ash off the end, squinting at him. “You.”

I had to get away from him. Now. Being this close to him made me want things I shouldn’t want. It made him want things he shouldn’t want. Staying was a bad idea. I saw that now.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” “Rule two, you don’t get to bark orders at me anymore.” “Fuck you and fuck your rules. I’m leaving. Now.” “Sucks being trapped somewhere, huh? Lucky you, you’re not stuffed in a fucking dog crate or handcuffed to a bed.”

I may have succumbed to a moment of weakness, but I knew I was stronger than the corruption in my blood. I would finish this job and I would never think of Roan Sinclair ever again.

I turned in time to see him get slammed onto the hood of his own car by one very pissed off Russian. “Sasha!” I tried to shove him off, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He pinned Freddy to the car by his throat, completely unconcerned by the fact my friend was already turning purple under his large hand. “Get off him!”

“Who the fuck is this?” The question was more of a growl, Sasha’s pupils narrowed to pinpricks. “None of your business!” “Should I kill him?” “No!” My indignation turned to real fear since I knew Sasha gave zero fucks about doing it. “Let him go! Now!”

he lifted his hand to my throat, brushing the pad of his thumb over the remnants of his hickey. The barest hint of a smile pulled up one side of his mouth, pleased by only God knew what.

Despite his icy exterior, I’d come to associate Sasha with fire — a fiery touch, a fiery temper, and fiery passion when he let his guard down.

“This is amazing,” I murmured, licking the pre-cum off the tip. “And these.” I dropped down further, dragging my tongue from his balls up the underside of his cock. “And this.” With the barest amount of pressure, I slipped my finger between his ass cheeks, tracing his hole. “I can’t wait to see what this is like.”

He may have been fascinated by me for whatever reason, but I was enraptured with him.

If it was what he wanted, I’d give it to him. I’d give him anything.

Being inside of him was everything I’d ever dreamed about, and everything that was going send me straight to Hell.