A Touch of Belladonna
K.A. Fox
Copyright © 2019 by K.A. Fox
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A Touch of Belladonna
By K.A. Fox
Micah Matthews learned early on to never bring his work home. He always kept the two separate. Better that way. As a Consultant, he made a legitimate living offering tailored computer solutions for a company's tech problems. But he couldn't deny the thrill his darker jobs gave him. It had taken time but now his name was out there. If you needed a new identity, needed to leave yourself behind, Micah was the one you wanted. It was those jobs that allowed him to use his imagination, building whole lives that had never existed before he dreamed them up, giving people a way to run when it was time. He'd also found it was best not to ask why someone came to him or where they came from. He accepted their money, gave them what they needed and then erased all traces that might lead back to him.
As he pulled up to his home, dark and quiet, he wondered briefly at his luck. He'd built a good life for himself and his family. The garage door before him went up silently at the push of a button, and he pulled in, his mind already anticipating the small bit of time he had to himself before his wife and daughter returned home. He absently checked his phone for any new messages, and seeing none, pulled his computer bag from the seat beside him and slid out of the car, confidently navigating the dimly lit garage through years of experience.
He was unprepared for the hands that grabbed his arms as he stepped into his home. They were iron hard, grinding down onto his skin and holding him fast. He twisted and fought, desperate to pull away, but it was futile. He was dragged down the hall toward the back of his own home, his captors ignoring his cries of pain and anger. No one bothered to gag him or even warn him into silence. Light flared around him. He blinked the spots away and saw the everyday items his wife had used to comfortably decorate the family room for them. The soft gray chenille throw she curled up under to read a book was the first thing he saw as his vision cleared. The deep cushions of the couch he relaxed into each night. But when he saw the person waiting for him here, in this room where he relaxed and enjoyed his football games every weekend, fear choked him so completely he couldn't make any other sounds.
The woman who faced him was beautiful. Coal dark hair curled around one side of her face, the other side swept back over her shoulder. Bright sapphire blue eyes framed with long black lashes watched the panic spread through him, saw the quivering he couldn't hold back. Deep red lips spread in a slow smile that bared her teeth. He was struck by the immediate thought that seeing this woman smile was like watching blood seep across her flawless, pale skin. She terrified him.
“You recognize me, yes?” The accent in her voice was heavy, coating the English words with a sultry weight. When he didn't respond, she continued on, dragging out the words. “You know who I am?”
Micah Matthews wasn't a stupid man. Answering was his only option. The one slim chance he had at surviving this encounter. “Yes, ma'am.” He didn't meet her eyes, fixing his gaze on the carpet at her feet. He felt a strange gratitude for the two men who still grasped his biceps. Without them, he'd have been on his knees before her, his legs unable to support him.
“You will say my name. I will have no misunderstandings between us.”
He heard the threat she didn't need to say. His dry mouth worked, trying to form words but nothing came out. The skin around her lips tightened a fraction and terror speared through him at the idea that he might have irritated her even the slightest bit. Finally, he found the strength to speak, the urge for self-preservation fueling him. “You're Belladonna Delgado.”
“Very good.” She crossed the floor between them, small feet eating up the distance too quickly for him, her slight weight barely marking the plush carpet as she walked. His heart beat faster with every step she took and his head began to swim. When she reached out, stroking sharp nails down his cheek, he couldn't breathe, afraid to move at all. “Now, I think we can discuss something very important. Something you stole from me.”
Micah felt his heart stop mid-beat, a shudder step that tightened his chest and made his mouth gape open. Sucking in air, he realized she was waiting for him to respond. Survival prompted him. “I would never steal from you, Madam Delgado. I swear.”
“Oh,” she crooned. “I'm sure you wouldn't. Unless of course, you didn't realize exactly what it was you were stealing.”
Cold flooded through him, his muscles seizing at the very thought. He frantically thought of anything he could've been involved in recently that touched on the Delgado family's business, but there was nothing.
She didn't wait for an answer or a denial. She just gripped his chin, black lacquer gleaming on her nails as they dug in, slicing minutely through the skin. Forcing his head up until his eyes were even with her cold blue ones, she drank in his fear. He saw the flush of pleasure heat her skin for a bare moment before it faded, replaced by barely restrained rage.
“Now, my men will show you a picture. You will tell me when you saw this woman. And how you helped her.”
Micah didn't resist
