The Bounty

21. Plot Twist

this one....took a while
i'm sorry
but alas! chapter 21

[ 21. Plot Twist ]

Staring into the barrel of the handgun with just the knife to protect myself rendered me defenseless. Hayes didn't get the memo about bringing a gun to a knife fight.

"Drop the phone and knife to the floor," he ordered, finger on the trigger and eyes squared in on my face. I pressed my lips together and did as he said slowly, the items hitting the carpet with a suppressed clatter. "Are you happy now? You got your phone call."

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"Of course not," he muttered, flicking his wrist so the gun did the talking. He gestured for me to stand and before I did, he grabbed the knife off of the ground. "You've sure got the bratty bottom role down to a tee, Vinnie."

I wasn't even a strict bottom. At least most of the time. I was vers, which was arguably better than being whatever the fuck Hayes was: a manly man's man who probably shuddered at the thought of a finger even near his asshole. Well, he sure didn't have a problem ripping me a new one. So he got the whole dominant he-man top role down, too.

We walked back to the dining room, this time with a gun pointed between my shoulder blades. Hayes kept the gun cocked until I was seated on the chair and then secured it in the waistband of his pants once the safety was on. I sat with my hands in my lap, staring at all of his little torture devices on the table—although it was an unusual spread. Hayes picked up the needle, removed the orange cap, and then used it to suck up some of the mysterious clear liquid from the vial. He set it down on the table and leaned forward with his palms flat, his full attention back on me.

"You're going to have to listen to me closely because shit is about to go down and it's going to happen fast, you hear me?"

When I looked up, I stilled at his expression. He was void of any humor, his eyes boring into mine and his lips slightly pursed. He hadn't shaved since I'd been here and all of that facial hair was growing thick and fast, a neat shape around his cheeks and mouth. I was starting to look more and more scraggly the longer I stayed here without grooming myself, but he made it look good without effort.

"What are you talking about?" I mumbled, feeling that shaky anxious feeling returning by the second.

Hayes walked away for a moment and reappeared with a towel, setting it folded on the table before me. "Put your hand on the towel," he instructed and I furrowed my eyebrows, staring at him in confusion. His brown eyes bored into mine and I felt my core tighten because it was different. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar. It seemed less out of intimidation and more of desperation, like the stakes were higher than I realized. "I need you to trust me half as much as I've trusted you in the last few days."

"Trust you?" I managed to laugh.

"Yes, Vinnie. Put your hand on the goddamn table so we can get it over with and I'll explain after."

I swallowed the thick, acidic lump in my throat. None of this was making any sense and I was tired of being told what to do and given little choice but to cooperate or face some nonexistent consequences. What was the worst he could do if I didn't put my hand on the table? Kidnap me and hold me hostage with an abnormal supply of zip-ties? I scoffed in response, but for whatever reason I obeyed.