DARK DESIRES

I sit on the edge of an overcrowded bench, nursing a pounding headache.

“Amber Green.” The prison guard’s words have me standing way too quickly. My stomach roils, and with barely any warning, I turn to an empty corner of the cell to throw up. My cellmates jump back as I gag. Their sounds of disgust have me attempting to apologize while my mouth fills with saliva. I don’t throw up but turn to the female guard unlocking the cell door. Her gaze narrows with annoyance, and the scowl that drags down her lips looks permanent as if someone carved it into her face with a penknife.

I wrap my arms around my waist as I walk toward the guard. Her slicked-back black hair makes all her features sharper, angrier.

“Why is she getting out? I’ve been here all night.” One of the women gets on her feet as she protests before glaring at me. She’s wearing a sleeveless t-shirt showing off her muscular arms. On her left bicep, a tattoo of a skull with a cross made of bones bulges.

“Sit your ass down, Philomena,” The female guard barks. I don’t linger but hurry out of the cell. The door closes heavily behind me. I glance back; my gaze clashes with Philomena’s, and she gives me the middle finger before she spits on the ground out of the corner of her mouth. I’m tempted to give Philomena the finger back since a cell door separates us, but the drunkenness has nearly worn off at this stage, taking my bravery with it and replacing my false bravado with common sense. I strode after the guard all the way to the front desk, where I automatically had a sense of safety wrapped around me.

“Your bail is set at five hundred euros.”

“Are you kidding me?” I ask. Where the hell will I get five hundred euros from? I had my credit card, but that is for emergencies only. Yes, this isn't good being here, but if I used my card every time I got arrested, I would never have a rainy day fund.

The officer doesn’t answer me; she drums her fingers along the counter while waiting for my answer. I tighten my hands together as I fight an overwhelming urge to run and hide.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” she asks, with her head tilted down so she’s looking at me from under her eyelashes. I glance away, not giving her an answer. My list of people to call doesn’t look promising. I can’t ring my parents; they would have a fit, nor my brother, Luke—-no, he would drag me home, and that is the last place I want to go.

“Look, officer, I haven’t been in trouble before, and this really is a misunderstanding.”

She rolls her eyes at my blatant lies before craning her neck back and shouting. “Jackson!” I step away from the counter as a younger officer appears, who I assume is Jackson. He seems nice as he gives me a soft smile before flicking his hair to the side.

“Take Miss Green back to her cell. She isn’t ready for her phone call yet.” The female guard leans on the desk as she speaks to Jackson.

Jackson opens his left hand in an, after you gesture.

I turn my attention to the female guard. “You saw how Philomena looked at me! You can’t send me back there.” My pleas have no effect, so I continue. “If we could arrange some kind of payment plan….”

The female guard snorts a laugh. “Jackson, get this clown back in her cell.”

EMMETT

Celine progresses around the bedroom, gathering up her clothes from the floor. Once she has her red dress on, she sits down on the edge of the bed. She pulls her long blonde hair over her shoulder before glancing back at me. “Would you zip me up?”

I sit up, still naked, and her eyes roam across my body. The sheets fall away as I shift to the end of the bed and take the golden zip between my fingers. When I have her dress zipped up, I return to the top of the bed. Celine fixes her hair before rotating on the mattress; she bites her lower lip. “You drive me crazy,” she says as she spins fully and crawls up the bed. Her long red nails drag up my thighs. I let her touch me until she reached toward the inside of my leg, her fingers stretching close to my cock. Before she can claim her prize, I capture each of her small wrists in my hands. Her brown eyes narrow; she doesn’t like rejection.

“Not now,” I say.

Celine’s eyes sparkle at my growing erection. “I beg to differ.” She smiles and tries to yank her wrists from my tightening hands, but I hold her firmly in place.

“Fuck’s sake, Emmett, you’re hurting me.”

I release her swiftly, and she gets off me before grabbing her shoes from the bedroom floor. Her blonde hair covers her face like a veil, and when she whips the long strands back over her shoulder, she meets my eye. “Is there someone else?” She whines.

Her insecure and jealous nature turns off, considering how beautiful she is. I want her out of my bedroom and my home. “Yes.” I stand up and shoulder past her, getting my bathrobe from my walk-in closet, which she stupidly follows me into.

“I thought—“ she starts, but my ringing phone has her moving toward the dressing table where the device lies. She picks up my phone and looks at the screen. Her brown gaze narrows in my direction. “Grace. Is that who you’re screwing?”

I don’t answer her as irritation burns hotly under my skin. I conceal my emotions as I slip on my bathrobe. I advance across the room to Celine and take my ringing phone out of her hand. “Get out, Celine.”

Panic sets in her eyes like I have seen a million times before. A fake smile grows on her lips, stretching them across her face. She flicks her hair. “Baby, it’s fine.”

I answer the phone. “Hi, can you give me a minute?” I ask Grace before reverting back to Celine. I don’t speak, just stare at her until she shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re an asshole!” she screams at me before leaving my room.

“Who did you piss off?” Grace asks, laughter evident in her voice.

“I think the real question is, who haven’t I pissed off? Is everything okay with you?” I ask as I hear the door to my penthouse shut.

“Actually, I’m looking for a favor.” Grace pauses before speaking with uncertainty in her voice. “It’s pretty big.” She adds after another moment of silence.

“Are you okay?” She sounds worried, and that doesn’t sit well with me. Where is Derek?

“Yes, I’m fine; it’s actually for my best friend.”

I roll out my tense shoulders. “Okay, tell me what you need.”

AMBER

Philomena makes the journey across the cell and plonks down beside me. I try to curl up into a tiny ball, hoping I will go undetected.

Philomena sniggers as she shifts closer to me. “ “You’re back.”

Jackson hits the cell bars with his baton before pushing his dark hair to the side. “Knock it off,” he shouts.

The minute he walks away, Philomena shifts even closer. “That was very quick.”

I glance around the cell for help. Everyone stares at me, but no one utters a word. “Yeah…” I start, but Philomena gets up off the bench and towers over me, cutting off any words that I had wanted to say.

“Don’t, yeah, me.”

I stand up. “I have no issues with you.” I swallow, hoping I sound tough, but I already know I don’t. She starts to laugh, and all the rest of our cellmates join in. At this moment, I fear she is going to beat me up. I duck around her.

“Jackson!” I scream, and silence fills our cell. “Jackson!” I roar louder.

“Calm down. It’s a joke, Princess.” Philomena sits back down on the bench, and the laughter dies.

Jackson appears, smashing his baton into his left hand.

“I want to make my phone call,” I say.

I’m escorted from the cell, and I pray to God that it's for the final time. I approach the desk, and the black dial phone is placed on the counter in front of me. I’m staring at the wall as I listen to the dial tone hating the choice I’m about to make.

I call my friend Grace. I feel terrible, but if anyone is going to help me, it will be her. Unfortunately, she’s away with Derek, her boyfriend, for a few nights. So, her brother, Emmett, whom I have never met before, is coming to bail me out. How embarrassing.

After my phone call, I’m allowed to wait in the reception area. I rest in a chair that is designed to damage your spine. Jackson works behind the counter, focusing on the screen of his computer. No one else is around. I keep peeking at the door and think about getting up and leaving. Would Jackson even notice? I shift, getting ready to stand, but a lawyer makes his way into the building. He rakes his hands through his hair; maybe his client has committed some horrible crime, like murder.

If he is representing me, my case will be a walk in the park for him with my drunk and disorderly, which, in my opinion, isn’t fair. Yes, I was drunk, but singing in the street is hardly disorderly. The lawyer guy doesn’t even glance at me as he walks up to the counter. The more I assess him, the less like a lawyer he appears. He’s one of those men that gives off the air that they own the whole world.

He’s well built, and I try not to focus too much on his ass, so I check out the main door, wondering how much longer I will have to wait. There isn’t even a magazine to read, and my phone died a while ago.

“I’m here to bail out Amber Green.” The deep gravelly tone comes from Lawyer Guy. Whiplash is definitely in the cards with how quickly I look at him. Is this Emmett? Jackson points at me with a pen, and Grace’s brother turns towards me. His heavy dark gaze takes me in with minimal interest before he turns back to Jackson. “Where do I sign?” he asks as I examine his physique. He’s good-looking, in a cold, prick-ish kind of way. He doesn’t have the same features as Grace at all. When he turns to me, the word I would have used for his expression is bored.

I stand and straighten my dress, trying to appear less cluttered. “Hi, I’m Amber.” I hold out my hand. He doesn’t take it, but I notice how he hesitates a beat before he finally takes my hand.

“Emmett.” The touch is brief, and when he releases my hand, I wonder if I had imagined the handshake.

“Thanks, Jackson,” I say before I follow Emmett outside of the Gardai station.

“Thank you so much, Emmett. I swear you’re a Godsend. I’ll pay you back.” I smile at him, and he glances at me with nothing revealed in his expression. Okay, maybe it’s my alcohol-addled brain.

“It’s fine.” He juts his chin toward a black Bentley. Is that his ride? Grace kept that quiet. Her brother is loaded. “Can I give you a lift?”

The sky is dusted with a red hue, and it’s not until this moment that I wonder what time it is. “Yeah, sure.”

Emmett opens the back door of his car for me, and I slide in. He climbs into the back with me. I hadn’t expected that. My dress is short, and I don’t want to give Grace’s brother a peep show. Not that he shows any interest at all, anyway. Still, I have my pride. I’m sure he would show more of a reaction watching paint dry.

The window that divides the driver from us whizzes down.

“Where to, Mr. Harrington?” The driver asks.

This isn’t Grace’s brother; Grace’s last name is Bradley.

My alarm bells start to ring. My fuzzy brain starts piecing everything together. How do I know this is really Grace’s brother? This guy could do anything to me. He doesn’t even look like Grace, and now I’ve discovered they don’t even have the same last name.

“Amber?” Emmett has asked me something, but my mind flips to panic mode.

“Who sent you?” I ask, clutching my bag tightly.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” My heart gallops.

I’ve been kidnapped.