Caged Killer Read online

  “You’re not going to give up easy, are you, Knox?” Not waiting for a reply, Mick sheathed his knife and leaned in again, this time putting both hands around Knox’s throat. He dug his thumbs into the hollow beneath Knox’s chin. “Who hired you?”

  Knox bared his teeth.

  Lannon calmly squeezed until Knox couldn’t breathe. The cold expression on his face didn’t change. “Who hired you?”

  Fuck. I should just give John up to this bastard. He deserves it, anyway, for being such a stupid shit. And it’s not like he’d keep his mouth shut in the same situation. Knox yanked on the chains harder, vision sparkling as the lack of air fuzzed his brain. His wrists burned. Horribly, his erection didn’t fade one bit. In fact, it swelled even more. Knox was more turned on than he’d ever been in his life.

  Mick let go.

  Knox sucked in air, cock throbbing against the harsh metal of his zipper. Fucking sick motherfucker.

  “Who hired you?”

  Knox swallowed and made his decision. “Heard you lifted Tony DiLorenzo’s entire stash last week.”

  Mick’s eyebrows raised. “Huh. The news is out.”

  Knox shifted his legs, happy that his body seemed to be working again. He’d be able to take this bastard down next time he moved close.

  “I should’ve seen that coming, I suppose.” Mick pursed his lips. “Still, DiLorenzo wouldn’t have hired you directly.” He unsheathed the knife strapped to his forearm again, fooling with his shirtsleeve until it lay smooth. “Someone directed him to you.” He twirled the blade through his fingers.

  Knox ground his teeth together. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Hmm. No, I guess it doesn’t. There will be more cockroaches coming out of the fucking woodwork soon enough.” Mick set his knife tip against the back of Knox’s hand.

  Knox froze. The blade was cold. Very, very cold. It seemed sharper against that skin than it had on his neck.

  “Seems a shame to let you go to waste, though, now that I’ve got you all tied up.” Mick paused, full lips smirking. “So to speak.”

  I don’t know what the fuck he’s getting at. Knox bit back a growl. The urge to push his hand up and nick himself rolled through him. He swallowed again, ignoring the sting in his throat as his fingers twitched.

  Mick suddenly climbed on the bed, straddling Knox.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ.” The words fell out of Knox’s mouth before he could stop them. Mick’s weight pressed right onto his dick, hard and painful and fucking perfect.

  Mick licked his lips. “Well, well. Clearly you didn’t see that coming.” He shimmied down a bit more, slotting Knox’s erection right between his legs. The fucker looked like he was getting off on this shit.

  “Fuck you.” Knox refused to let his hips buck up into the bastard’s heat. He was not gay. He wasn’t anything at all. He wanted to twist Lannon around and crack his spine into pieces, but he didn’t have the leverage. Not anymore. Not with the bastard on top of me, but the moment he moves…

  “That can definitely be arranged.”

  Knox shuddered.

  Mick ground down, sliding his knife up Knox’s arm like a deadly snake. “I like blood.” He pressed in with the tip, just enough to sting. Blood trickled down Knox’s arm, circling the tattoo inked into the crook of his elbow.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Knox couldn’t seem to stop running off at the mouth. “What did you dose me with?” There had to be some reason his body was so hot to trot right now, after years of indifference to pretty much anything or anyone. Drugs were a likely culprit.

  “BDSM baby.” Mick laughed. “I chained you up. That’s it.” He leaned down and kissed the blood on Knox’s skin. “And you like it. Who knew? I certainly didn’t. They call you Fort Knox, you know. ‘He’s stone cold,’ they said, when I got the file on you.” He kissed the edge of Knox’s biceps. “Such lies.” His lips tickled against Knox’s skin. “You’re not cold at all, are you?”

  “Whatever you pumped into my veins is doing this.” Knox bit back a groan. The scent of chocolate swept over him. “Fucking get off me.”

  Mick licked up his arm, ignoring his pleas. “You are an unexpected treasure, Knox Calvin.”

  Knox pressed his lips together so tightly the skin went numb. “You’re a fucking cocksucker.”

  Mick sat back up again, pushing Knox’s erection flat. It hurt like hell. “Sometimes, yeah.” He licked his lips. “And obviously,” he punctuated his words with a roll of his hips. “So are you.”

  Knox growled, beyond pissed and heading straight into rage. “Motherfucker.”

  “Mmm. Look at you.” Mick’s eyes traveled along Knox’s torso. “You had no idea you could feel this way, did you?” The thief grinned. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “Fuck you.” Knox felt like there wasn’t enough air going into his lungs. Fucking drugs.

  “You’re repeating yourself.” Mick slid his knife into the opening of Knox’s t-shirt, and with a swift, sure jerk, split the fabric right down the middle. “Well, would you look at that?” He put his palm dead center on Knox’s chest. The heat from his hand burned. “You have a picture of a cage inked into your skin, Mr. Calvin.”

  That’s it. He’s fucking close enough. Knox twisted, lifting up and using his legs to trap Mick. Using his chains as leverage, he tenses his shoulders and flipped them both over, pinning the bastard underneath his body. The mattress squeaked like an old whore, but he ignored it, trusting the steel bedframe to keep them off the floor. He shoved an arm over Mick throat, metal rattling.

  “Where’s the key?” Knox shifted the chains, digging the shackle’s cuff into Mick’s shoulder. I should just kill him and get it over with, he thought, but he didn’t press harder. Something about this guy made him want to let the situation play out. What would the thief do next? And it’s not like I have anything else to do right now.

  Mick narrowed his eyes. “I have a knife at your jugular, Knox.” He leaned the tip into Knox’s skin.

  “I don’t fucking care.” Knox pressed harder. The sting at his neck felt like hardly anything.

  Mick’s gaze went flat. “I really don’t want to kill you.”

  “The feeling’s mutual. This is business.” Knox frowned. “Give me the key.”

  The blade at his throat sank in unexpectedly. This time the pain wasn’t small. Wasn’t good. Warmth blossomed over his shoulder, wet and strange. Knox blinked, trying to think, and then Mick flipped them back over. He threw his blade to the side and slapped a hand over Knox’s throat. “You stupid fuck.”

  Vaguely, Knox realized that his hard-on had finally subsided.

  “Aileen! Get in here. Bring the first aid kit,” Mick yelled, fingers slipping. He turned back to Knox. “I think I hate you.”

  Knox smiled, finally calm again. If this was how he had to die, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh my God, what happened?”

  Mick glared up at his sister. She stood in the doorway, staring at the spot over the bed where his blade stuck half into the drywall. “Nothing. Did you get the kit?” He cursed when her eyes drifted down. “Aileen!” he barked.

  Her face paled when she saw the blood, but she was holding the supplies he needed.

  Fuck. I don’t have time for this. Mick held on to the edges of Knox’s wound. If he didn’t get the bleeding stopped, bad things would happen. He hadn’t done too much damage, but if he didn’t get the wound sealed off, Knox wouldn’t wake up for a long time, if ever. Even slow wounds could kill. “Bring the stuff over. Quick!”

  She hurried to the bed, fingers tightening around the medical bag. “Oh my God, Mick. What did you do?”

  “Give me the suture kit. Shit!” Mick’s fingers slipped again. “I need you to focus, Aileen.”

  “Here.” She thrust it at him, already open.

  Mick grabbed a clamp and got it where he needed it, then slowly began piecing the stupid idiot assassin back together. When he finall
y got the worst of the wound closed off, he hooked up an IV and hung the bag on the bolt with the chains. “I don’t think he lost all that much blood,” he murmured, frowning. “He must still have some tranquilizer in his system. The wound dropped his blood pressure too quickly so he passed out.”

  “Why did you cut him?” His sister hugged herself.

  Mick sighed. “He tried to kill me.”

  She pressed her lips together. “He’s an assassin, you told me. He has a contract on your head. Isn’t killing you what he’s supposed to do?” Her eyes flicked over the carnage on the bed. “So, why are you sitting on top of him?”

  Mick closed his eyes. How to explain to his sister what he was doing without scarring her for life? I enjoy tying up and blooding my sexual partners, wasn’t an answer he was prepared to offer to her. Normally, he didn’t feel guilt for his pleasures. Didn’t care what other people thought of him, but his sister… She’s the exception. And my weakness, dammit. “I needed information. He wasn’t cooperating.”

  “So you used a knife to ask questions? Seems inefficient.” Her voice trembled despite her obvious effort to appear calm. “Wouldn’t he just make up random stuff to get you to stop?”

  Mick focused on her. For a fifteen year old, she was remarkably sensible. “You’ve got a point.” And she was right, but he’d be damned if he was going to explain that it wasn’t about the information anymore. He just wanted to play with Knox. The assassin intrigued him. He sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see this.” He frowned at the wall. A streak of red blazed down the white expanse like war paint. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” Aileen wasn’t fixated on the blood anymore, but from the way her eyes darted around the room, he knew she certainly wasn’t comfortable with the situation. “I’ll clean it up later,” he promised.

  She glanced at him, and then looked away at the window. A light summer breeze fluttered the sheer curtains he’d hung up a year ago, when his life still made some sort of fucking sense. He’d splurged, decorating the house a little bit: a new leather sofa in the living room, new dishes for the kitchen, and matching curtains in the bedrooms, but nothing quite worked out as expected. Instead of his sister visiting once in a while, she’d had to move in. Instead of her staying far enough away that his unconventional life didn’t affect her, she was now in the middle of it. He didn’t have enough knives to carve this situation into manageable pieces, and they were both paying the price. Neither of them knew quite how to fix it, either. Blood spilled so easy.

  Which should be blatantly obvious, given the literal smears of it on the wall, he thought, looking at the streaks where his fingers had rubbed against the paint in his hurry to patch Knox up.

  “It’s fine. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.” Aileen smoothed her hands down her shirt.

  “Dammit, Aileen.” Mick made himself climb off Knox, but he didn’t move away from the bed. He sat on the thin mattress, putting a finger over the man’s wrist so he could feel his pulse. It was steady. Mick sighed again, suddenly exhausted. Knox was a ticking bomb, and Mick had every intention of picking apart the mechanics before the explosion took him down, not because he cared about dying, but because he couldn’t help fooling around with complicated situations. He wanted to crack the guy open and put his fingers all over Knox’s guts. He wanted to fuck him until neither of them could move. Hell, he wanted to carve his name in Knox’s flesh, right over that damned cage tattoo, but then there was his sister standing not three feet away, looking at him with those young eyes of hers.

  I’m so fucked. He rubbed a thumb over Knox’s warm skin. “I never should have brought you here, Aileen.” Inadequate words, perhaps, but all he had to offer.

  His sister frowned. “Where else would I go? Aunt Judy is dead, and we can’t change that. Right next to you is the safest place for me, at least for now.”

  “I’m the reason she’s dead.” Mick wanted to rub his eyes, but his hands were covered in blood. He was just so damned tired. “You know that. I’m not safe.”

  She bit her lip. “We don’t have a choice, Mick.”

  He looked away, not wanting to see the worry on her face or in her gaze. She had the same color eyes as he did. The same eyes their mother had had, blue as the sky on a clear day. Shit, I’m getting maudlin. There was a reason he avoided mirrors. “Go downstairs, Aileen. I’ll clean this up.”

  Aileen nodded. “Don’t kill him.”

  As if. Then I wouldn’t be able to see what makes him tick. Mick laughed. “He’s more likely to kill me. He could’ve snapped my neck twice already, but he didn’t.”

  “Even with the shackles?” She headed for the hall.

  “Yeah.”

  She frowned. “Maybe don’t play with this one, Mick. He’s not safe.”

  Surprised, Mick watched his sister walk out of the bare room. What does she know about my playthings? Shit. She left the door slightly ajar, as if not closing it all the way would prevent him from doing what was necessary. “Maybe I should’ve let him strangle me,” he murmured, frustrated with his sister. And frustrated with yourself, you stupid fuck. At least be an honest thief.

  Knox groaned.

  Mick’s fingers tightened as the sound went straight to his dick. He held the assassin’s arm in place. “Don’t move or you’ll rip out your IV.”

  Knox opened his eyes slowly. Mick watched awareness flow back into the killer’s face. “Fuck.”

  Mick agreed with the sentiment, though he wouldn’t say so aloud. “You went down like a fucking rock over a cliff. One little cut and boom.” He snapped his fingers, watching Knox’s expression. Maybe picking at the man’s ego would net some interesting information.

  The assassin glared at him, dark brown eyes gone black with anger. “No thanks to you.”

  “Actually, you’re still here thanks to me.” He jerked his head towards the first aid kit he’d put on the chair. “I stitched you back up.”

  “You cut me open in the first place, you bastard.” Knox grimaced, flexing his fingers.

  Mick’s lips twisted, unexpectedly amused. “Well, once again, you’re completely right. I cut you, and I’m literally a bastard. No marriage for my mom and the sperm donor, so you’re two for two.” The ball of arousal sitting tight and small in his gut unfurled as he watched surprise bleed into Knox’s expression. He grinned. “And my father was indeed a bastard, in the evil sense of the word, from what she told me. It must run in the family.”

  “Jesus. Doesn’t anything get you riled up?”

  A snort pushed its way past Mick’s forced calm. “Sure there is. For example, I tend to get really upset when people try to kill me. Stalkers aren’t much better.” He let go of Knox’s wrist. “Which is why you’re covered in blood and sutures.” He stood up and worked the kinks out of his neck. He didn’t think it would be particularly helpful to tell Knox that the streaks of red slowly turning brown along his collarbone made Mick want to fuck him. Slow and hard. His little sexual kinks were no one’s business but his own.

  Knox lifted his shoulder, as if testing the limits of his wound. He winced. “I hate stitches.”

  “You’re lucky I only nicked you. It shouldn’t give you any problems if you don’t mess with it.” Mick put a hand on Knox’s shoulder when the man tried to sit up. “No. Let the IV get your blood pressure back to normal first. It’ll help flush the rest of the tranquilizer out of your system, too.”

  “You sound like a fucking doctor. Jesus Christ, you’re a sick fuck,” Knox muttered, but he didn’t resist Mick’s hand.

  True words. Mick’s gaze went to Knox’s mouth when the assassin licked his lips.

  “Why the hell did you bother sewing me back together? You could’ve let me bleed out. End your problem.”

  Because I’m an idiot. Because you’re quickly becoming an entirely different problem than the one I thought I had. Mick shook his head. “Why do you have a tattoo of a cage on your chest?” He rubbed a fingernail down his palm, scraping at the drying blood. “A v
ery old tattoo, at that. It almost looks like you had it done when you were a kid.” He tilted his head. “That’s illegal.”

  Knox’s eyes darkened even more. “None of your business.”

  Mick’s eyebrows rose. “Hmm.” He ran a finger gently down the inked drawing, enjoying the heat of Knox’s skin.

  “You’re getting off on this shit. Fucking hell.” Knox knocked Mick’s hand away, rattling his chains. “Get the fuck away from me, you pervert. Are you into rape, too?”

  “Rape, ha. Give me a break.” Mick smiled, leaning in. “You’re getting off on it too.” He abruptly put his hand on Knox’s erection.

  Knox froze, nostrils flaring. “I’d be careful what you do with that.”

  Mick gathered Knox’s chains in his free hand and used them to pull the man’s arms over his head. The cock beneath his palm swelled. He swallowed, wondering if Knox would lose his shit completely if Mick sucked him off. “Do you always lie to yourself?” His fingers massaged over Knox’s zipper.

  Knox hissed, hips shifting.

  “Where did the tattoo come from, Knox?” Mick dug a fingernail into his captive’s jeans. He knew it must hurt, but Knox’s erection didn’t flag. Frankly, the man’s stamina amazed Mick. He’d been drugged, cut open and sewn back up, and still he had enough left in him to sport a hell of an impressive hard-on. Mick’s mouth watered. He rarely let himself get excited about sex, but this man pushed all of his buttons.

  “What’s it to you?” Knox almost growled the question.

  Mick shrugged. “I’m a curious thief.”

  Knox pressed his lips together defiantly.

  Mick waited, hand on the assassin’s dick. He had the time, and he enjoyed watching Knox squirm.

  “Got it when I was young and dumb. That’s it,” Knox finally said, then looked away.

  Mick smiled slowly. “Did you feel trapped, Knox? Caged in? What kind of bastard was your father?”

  Knox kept his head turned and his mouth shut.

  Mick knew he’d gone too far when the cock beneath his hand wilted. “Interesting. Cut you open and you don’t even hold a grudge. Ask you about your past and you check out.”