Caged Killer Read online

  That got a rise. Knox scowled at him. “Only whackjobs get off on talk about their parents. I’m a mean sonofabitch, but I’m not that fucked in the head.”

  Truth, at last. Mick sat up, letting the chains slide back down through the bolt. “Try to get some rest. You’ll heal faster.” He stood up and retrieved his knife from the wall. Knox didn’t move, even when Mick’s arm brushed his shoulder. He grabbed the used wrappers from the first aid kit, and headed for the door.

  “How long you gonna keep me locked up in here?”

  Mick paused at the unexpected question. “I don’t know.” He knew that answer wouldn’t please the killer, but it was the only one he had.

  ****

  Knox stared at the back of Mick’s head until he the door clicked shut. His wound hurt like fucking hell, but it was manageable. What really upset him was the IV. He didn’t like to think he was so weak that a little scratch on the neck could put him out. He knew Mick had nicked him good, but he’d been cut worse before. Mick was a pro. He’d known exactly how far to push in the damned knife. He touched his neck, careful not to dislodge the gauze and tape over the stitches.

  Must be getting old, he told himself, then turned his attention to the IV. He hated these things. He carefully peeled the tape away from the skin inside his elbow. He grimaced when he pulled out the catheter, then knotted the tubing so the bag wouldn’t drain out all over the place. Last thing he needed was a wet bed he couldn’t get away from. He sat up, careful not to rattle the chains, and pressed a finger to the tiny hole in his arm. He’d already lost enough blood. It’d be a damn shame to drip more all over the sheets. Motherfucker already has enough of my blood. After a moment, he let up the pressure. The spot wasn’t even sore. The fucking thief had slipped the needle into his arm better than a professional.

  “So.” He sighed, rubbing his arms. The shackles irritated him, scraping at his wrists. “What the actual fuck?” His mind skittered over the past few hours. He could’ve shoved his fingers into Mick’s neck and ripped out his throat, even chained up like this. He could’ve grabbed the bastard’s blade from the wall and stabbed him with his own steel. He could’ve done any number of things to get out of this shit, especially with Mick thinking he was too weak to move, but he hadn’t. He swallowed, remembering the pain of Mick’s finger pushing into his erection. “Fuck me sideways. What the hell am I doing?”

  The door opened.

  Knox looked up, not expecting Mick back so soon. Instead of the damned thief, a girl with the most ethereal blonde hair he’d ever seen walked into the room, carrying a tray filled with food. What the hell?

  “Oh.” She stopped, fingers whitening where she gripped the metal tray too hard. “You’re awake.”

  Well, well. Who is this? Knox cleared his throat, ignoring the sting in his neck as he shifted his shoulders into a more comfortable position. “I won’t bite.”

  She rolled her bottom lip under her teeth nervously, then walked over to the bed. “Lunch.” She set the tray on the mattress, then frowned. “I need to clean this blood up. It’s everywhere.”

  “No.” Knox didn’t want her touching the mess.

  She stopped her movement towards the sheets. “What?”

  Knox gently pushed her away from the bed. “Never get this close to a prisoner.” He rattled the chains. “I got a lot of slack here. Could grab you before you know what’s what.”

  She hugged herself. Her blue eyes hid shadows. “My brother said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Brother? Shit. Knox sighed. He knew he’d seen eyes like that before. What the fuck was Mick doing? “I won’t hurt you. Doesn’t mean you should take risks. Stay away from the bed.”

  “But Mick said you need to eat. He said it would help with the tranquilizer he gave you.” She gestured to the tray. “I’ll—” She broke off, and looked at the door. “He doesn’t know I brought the food up.”

  Mick doesn’t care about me feeling drugged, so what’s his angle? And what the hell is he doing with a sister and a prisoner in the same house? Knox shook his head, suddenly grateful that his entire family was dead, especially his bastard of an old man. He’d go crazy if he had a younger sibling to worry about, especially one as soft and vulnerable as this girl seemed to be. Mick was a fucking idiot. Why the fucking hell did he steal Tony DiLorenzo’s shit? “Tell your brother I need to use the toilet.” That should scare her away. I don’t need to be getting to know her.

  She flushed, and backed toward the door. “Okay.”

  Knox waited until she was gone before grabbing the sandwich and ripping into it with his teeth. At least the fucker isn’t going to starve me. He’d managed to eat most of it before Mick stepped back into the room. Truth was, Knox’d been expecting him to let him stew for the rest of the day. Maybe even overnight.

  “You made quite an impression on my sister.” Mick walked over to the bed. He frowned at the dangling IV, but didn’t say anything.

  “She shouldn’t be here,” Knox said, before he could stop himself.

  Mick tensed. “That’s not your business.”

  Knox chewed and swallowed the last bite. “What the fuck are you doing?” He wasn’t a nice guy. He knew that and didn’t much care who else knew, but Mick’s sister’s appearance stuck in his craw. She shouldn’t be here. “You know I could’ve killed her.” He set aside the tray and leaned back against the headboard. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  Mick picked up the tray. “You don’t touch her.” His voice sounded harsh, like a knife ripping through fabric.

  “I didn’t.” Knox folded his arms, interested to see that Mick’s good mood from earlier had evaporated. “I could kill you now. I could have killed you an hour ago, when you were dumb enough to stick your knife in the wall right above my head.”

  For a moment, Mick’s eyes blazed. He looked like he wanted to hit Knox with the tray, but then just as quickly as his temper flared, it disappeared. “But you didn’t kill me, did you?” He put the tray on the floor near the bed.

  What the hell is it about this guy? Knox didn’t know how Mick could go from cold to hot and back again so fast. “I still might.”

  Mick laughed. “No.” He pulled out his stupid knife and flipped it though his fingers.

  Knox watched the silver blade flash. He had no idea when he’d decided to stop fighting with the thief. Maybe I’m just too fucking tired to bother. This business will screw with anyone’s head. He smoothed his hands down his jeans, ignoring the spark of arousal slithering down his spine. Mick was too slick to grab hold of, and fucking wouldn’t solve a damn thing, anyway. Even if he were gay, which he wasn’t. Even if he were interested. “DiLorenzo isn’t going to let this drop. No one steals his product and gets away with it.”

  Mick nodded, lips quirking. “Yeah. I know.”

  Jesus. He’s got a death wish. Knox twisted his mouth. This much talking irritated him, but he wanted answers. “Why’d you do it?”

  Mick wrinkled his nose adorably. “Why do you care?”

  “Humor me.” Knox shifted on the mattress, trying to make room for the boner that didn’t seem to want to behave.

  Mick sheathed his knife, then zipped up the first aid kit and set it on the floor. He sat down on the chair next to the bed. “My mother’s sister was walking down the street a few months ago, and then some asshole hit her with his car. Hit and run. I later found out it was one of DiLorenzo’s dealers, high as fuck and joyriding around town. Aileen didn’t take it well, of course, since Aunt Judy was practically raising her. That sort of thing pisses me off. I don’t like my sister upset.”

  You didn’t take it well either, Knox thought, looking at the lines of stress etched into Mick’s face, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Aileen’s the girl who brought me lunch?” he asked, just to see the thief’s reaction to him saying her name.

  “Yes.” Mick rolled his shoulders.

  “So, you snatched Tony DiLorenzo’s shit. What the hell did you think that would do?” Knox f
ound it interesting that Mick had gone after the head of the beast and not the driver.

  Mick frowned.

  He stole more than just drugs, Knox thought, watching Mick’s expression. Something else had to be at stake here. “Your sister lives with you?”

  “I’m done talking about Aileen.” Mick stood up, pushing the chair aside with his legs. He grabbed the tray and held it like a weapon, moving to the center of the room. Wooden floorboards creaked as he walked.

  Knox eyed the edge of the battered metal warily. “Nowhere else for her to go, huh?” He already knew the answer. “Now she’s gotta live with a fucking criminal. Poor girl.”

  Mick turned without answering. “I’ll be back in a bit so you can have a bathroom break.”

  “Hey!” Knox rattled his chains. “How long are you going to keep me chained to the wall? I’m not a fucking dog.”

  Mick paused. “As long as it takes,” he threw over his shoulder.

  “Your sister’s got no clue what you are, you know,” Knox said, twisting the knife deeper. It’s what he did. “She might have an idea, but she doesn’t know you for real.”

  “And you do?” Mick abruptly turned and threw the tray across the room. It banged against an old dresser pushed up against the wall opposite the bed, then fell to the floor. “Fuck you, Knox.” Abruptly, he strode over and grabbed Knox’s wrists, pushing them down into the mattress, bones grinding into thick metal cuffs. “You don’t know a frigging thing about me and my sister.”

  Knox grinned, pleased to have finally rattled the slick motherfucker. “I know you don’t care about a damned thing, so this shit with your sister must have really done a number on you. You should go to a shrink. Get your head examined.”

  Mick pressed harder. “You’re the one all shackled up, you fucking killer. And you’re getting off on it. You might want to take a long, hard look at yourself before you accuse me of mental instability.”

  Knox’s skin prickled. The hands holding his wrists down hurt. “Why don’t you just ship her off to school? You’re being stupid, and that’s one thing I know you ain’t.”

  Mick’s blue eyes darkened. “Shut. Up.”

  “Or what? You’ll kill me?” Knox bared his teeth. “Go ahead.”

  “You keep daring me to cut you.” Mick narrowed his gaze. “You want to die? Huh? Sure seems that way to me. Suicide by blade.” He let go. “You bastard.”

  Knox ignored the disappointment pooling in his stomach. “Fucking pansy.”

  Mick cupped Knox’s face, tilting it up. “You have no idea.” Without warning, he kissed Knox.

  Oh, fuck, was all Knox’s scrambled brains could come up with, and then Mick licked inside his mouth.

  Chapter Four

  Mick kissed Knox as punishment. He kissed him because he didn’t know how else to shut him up. And finally, he kissed him because the stupid asshole wanted to die, and he was trying to get Mick to do it for him instead of figuring out his mental trauma and dealing with it rationally. He fucking hated when people thought they could use him as a damned trigger. He was more than a sharp, shiny dangerous blade.

  “Goddammit.” He finally pulled away, lips stinging. Knox stared at him, mouth wet and swollen. The assassin’s scent clung to his skin: a mix of blood and sweat and a hint of spice. “You stupid fuck.” Kissing was so much more intimate an action than just fucking. He hated it.

  So, what the hell are you doing kissing Knox? he asked himself. Playing with the man’s cock was one thing. Tormenting him for information was another. But kissing? Kissing the killer was something entirely different. Kissing meant he was too damned close to his prey.

  Knox shuddered.

  Mick stood up, running a hand down his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Knox’s voice came out rough.

  “Well, clearly you’re feeling better.” Mick took a deep breath, and then dug the key to the shackles out of his pocket. His dick throbbed, reminding him that he’d been playing with fire way too much today. “Come on. Bathroom break.” He reached up and unlocked the chains from the bolt.

  “You’re not gonna undo these?” Knox held up his wrists, metal cuffs looking like some kind of twisted sado-masochistic jewelry. The links of chain dragged on the bed.

  “Ha. Not a chance in hell.” Mick tugged on the chains, forcing Knox to stand up. Knox glared at him, but followed as he led him to the door. “Keep your mouth shut. I don’t want Aileen coming up here again.” He wrapped the chains around his hands and fisted the links until they cut into his skin. The pain helped.

  Knox snorted. “Stupid.”

  Yeah, yeah. Mick dragged him down the hall and shoved him into the bathroom. “Clean up.” He left the door open, but dropped the chains. They clattered against the tile floor. “There’s some sweats and a shirt in the cabinet.” He nodded towards the shower, absently rubbing the indented marks on his palms. “Towel is on the rack inside.” He shut the door behind him and locked it. He didn’t want Aileen wandering in.

  “You gonna stand there and watch me?” Knox ripped the remnants of his shirt off.

  Mick stared at the man’s thickly muscled chest. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t get your stitches wet.”

  Knox shook his head. “Yeah, right.” He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them. His cock swung out, half-hard and thick.

  Mick looked at it, mouth going dry, and then Knox stepped into the shower.

  “Mint shampoo. Jesus.” Knox stepped under the spray of water.

  “Mint is refreshing.” Mick liked the smell of it. It reminded him of better days. His mother used to drink mint tea. That was a long time ago, he reminded himself.

  Knox scrubbed at his short hair, then let the water rinse off the suds. When he began soaping up his cock and balls, Mick gritted his teeth. He couldn’t look away … Knox was too dangerous to leave unattended. And Mick had his sister in the house. Keep telling yourself that’s why you’re watching him. Maybe it’s even true, but that’s not the only reason.

  Knox rinsed off and stopped the water. He grabbed the towel off the rack, but didn’t bother to dry off.

  Mick frowned. “Hurry up.”

  Knox grabbed the chains dangling from his wrists.

  Mick tensed, the handle of the blade he kept on his wrist hitting his palm before he could consciously think about what was happening. “Don’t try it, Knox.” He lifted the knife.

  Knox bared his teeth. The moment he leaped, Mick pivoted, pressing the assassin against the sink. He had the knife right up against that damned tattoo on Knox’s chest, but the killer had the chains wrapped tight around his neck. Mick glared at him. Knox ignored the blood trickling down his skin, mixing with the moisture from his shower.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Knox said, tightening the chains around Mick’s neck.

  “You kill me, you die.” Mick held the knife steady. His airway was a little compressed, making it difficult to breathe, but it was Knox’s cock pressed hot and hard into his hip that had him feeling woozy.

  “Sounds good to me,” Knox bit out, belligerent as always.

  Mick’s hand trembled. What the fuck? His hand never shook, not when he had a knife in it. He frowned, then dragged the knife down, lightly slicing through the fucking bars inked into Knox’s chest. “There. You’re fucking free now.” He tried to step back, but Knox’s grip on the chains didn’t budge.

  “My bastard father held me down and had his buddy put that on my skin.” Knox’s fingers were white around the links.

  Mick swallowed. His throat began to hurt. “Let me go.”

  Knox shook his head.

  Mick sliced another line, cutting through the other half of the cage. Opening it up. “You enjoy seeing your own blood? Is that it?” His voice was hoarse. He cut another line, and then another. The fucking killer didn’t even flinch. “You’re a masochist.”

  “Takes one to know one.” Knox looked down. “That’s en
ough.”

  Mick gritted his teeth and pressed the blade flat. The blood-streaked silver looked excellent against Knox’s skin—simultaneously sharp and smeary and so, so wrong. His cock throbbed in his pants, arguing that the view was so, so right. “I can kill you, Knox, but I can’t erase your past. No one can,” he forced himself to say, pretending to be objective.

  Knox abruptly let go of the chains. Mick sagged against the sink, still staring at Knox’s bloody chest. His throat stung. He’d probably have bruises later.

  “Fuck.”

  At the harsh word, Mick looked up. Knox’s eyes were dark and hot. He reached out and grabbed the knife. Mick growled, twisting them around. Chains rattled. Knox grunted when his spine hit the edge of the counter, and then Mick was on his knees, mouthing at his nude prick even as Knox’s fingers ground into his around the hilt. “Let go of the knife, Knox.”

  Knox’s fist tightened for a split second, and then he let go. The chains banged against the counter, but Mick was too busy to care. He set the knife against Knox’s balls, pricking, but not cutting. Knox’s erection brushed his cheek so Mick closed his eyes and inhaled, savoring musk and mint.

  “Jesus fuck.” Knox gripped the edge of the sink.

  Mick smiled, sliding the blade up to the root of him. “Don’t move.”

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Knox’s knuckles went white, but he obeyed.

  Mick edged the tip of the knife along Knox’s cock, and then he licked the crown.

  Knox groaned like a man on the brink of death, but his hips stayed perfectly still.

  Nothing like a blade against a man’s cock for motivation, Mick thought, and then he took Knox fully into his mouth.

  Knox shuddered. Mick sucked gently, looking up to see how the assassin liked his tongue. Knox had his head tipped back, showing the cords of his neck. The wet bandage at his neck hung half off, showing Mick’s stitching handiwork. The cuts on his chest had already clotted, making a red mess of the fucking cage tattoo. Good. That thing deserves to be cut away. The thought of Knox’s father doing that to him made Mick want to cut pieces off the bastard. Too many years too late.