waistband of my jeans. “My cock wants a taste.”
He flips me over, and regardless of my empty stomach, I know I’m going to be sick. There’s no stopping it. I try and swallow it down, but as he reaches for his belt and unbuckles his pants, I know it’s only a matter of seconds before it erupts from my throat.
He manages to get my jeans down to my knees then reaches for his buckle. He frees his tiny ant-eater looking cock and tugs at it a few times. Groaning while keeping his eyes fixated on the space between my legs.
Slowly, I raise my knee and wait a few agonizing seconds for the perfect moment. When he licks his lips and reaches for my panties, I straighten my leg, kicking my heel into his crotch.
He howls in pain and I make a run for it, but I’m weak and slow. Within seconds, he’s on me, pinning me to the ground.
“I was gonna make this good for you,” he spits, his eyes bulging from his tiny head. “You stupid cunt!”
He punches me across my already injured jaw, and I see stars.
Wes covers my mouth with his hand, and I can’t hold it down any longer. I throw up against his palm but he keeps his hand pressed firmly over my mouth. My stomach keeps pushing everything upwards. I’m choking on my own bile; my eyes water. Everything’s blurry. I can’t breathe. I can’t see.
“Now.” He leans down, his putrid breath on my face. He holds a gun to my temple. He talks through his teeth, spraying his spit on my face. “I’m going to make you feel all the pain.”
I’m so dizzy. The room is spinning. The bloodied and rusted concrete finds its way in and out of my vision over and over again. Wes is tearing at my clothes. My shirt is open. Even with the gun to my head, I’m fighting and fighting him, but I don’t feel myself moving.
This is what it means to be all out of fight.
I thought I had seven more days.
I was wrong.
An explosion booms through the cell. It’s so loud it temporarily replaces all other sound. All I hear is a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Wes’s weight leaves my body, his gun drops from my head. He disappears into a mist of red and pink, falling lifeless against the iron bed frame. His mouth is open, and so are his eyes but he sees nothing.
Wes is dead.
I try to catch my breath but can’t get off the floor. I watch motionless as Wes’s blood seeps into the dingy yellowed mattress, staining it a deep red.
Smoke walks over to him, gun in hand. He crouches down and smirks.
“How’d that feel, motherfucker?”
Chapter Fourteen
Smoke’s shadowin the moonlight covers every inch of my body and blocking every bit of the light from the window. I heave again, but there’s nothing left in my stomach.
And nothing left of my hope.
There’s only so much one person can take, and I fear I’m nearing the point of no return.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You…You killed him,” I whisper.
“He interfered,” Smoke answered. “No one interferes.” He lights a cigar and takes a puff, blowing smoke rings into the cell.
I spot Wes’s fallen gun. It’s within reach.
I have an idea. It’s a stupid and reckless one, but it’s all I’ve got.
Dr. Ida Tip: If you see an opportunity to escape, take it.
I pretend to heave again and stretch my fingers, connecting with the gun. My mouth is inches away from bits of Wes’s skull. My fingers brush over soft chunks of his brain, and if my stomach wasn’t already empty, I really would be heaving again. I can smell the copper in his blood and feel the heat escaping his freshly opened skull as it rises from his corpse.
My fingertips contact the gun. I wrap my hand around it and place my finger on the trigger. Smoke’s standing behind me, I can feel his eyes on my back. I sit up slowly onto my knees only to be met with the barrel of his gun on the back of my head.
“You going to kill me, hellion?” Smoke asks, sounding amused.
I’m glad my torment and agony is so entertaining for him. I don’t see how I can save anyone right now. Let alone myself. I feel all hope draining from my body, from my soul, like someone has pulled the bath plug.
I make a decision.
A vengeful spiteful stupid decision.
One I won’t be around to regret.
“No, I’m not going to kill you.” I say, shifting the gun into position. I turn around slowly so he can be rest assured it’s not pointed at him.
It’s in my mouth.
Chapter Fifteen
Impatient bitch.
This girl would rather kill herself then wait for someone else to do it.
I’m pretty sure the asshole with his brains scattered all around the cell is one of Griff’s men. He’s checking up on me and I won’t fucking tolerate that kind of bullshit. I told Griff I’d bring him Frankie in a week’s time I’ll make good on my word.
I’ll also bring him this motherfuckers head in a box.
But first I’ve got to deal with the issue at hand.
I think it’s safe to say that boredom isn’t a problem of mine. Not anymore.
Not where Frankie Helburn is concerned and not since I’ve seen her body back in the motel room.
And what a fucking body it is. Even scraped and cut up, maybe even because of it, I was rethinking my plans for her.
A week isn’t nearly long enough when I think of how much pleasure I could get from taking my revenge out on the body of Frank Helburn’s only daughter. I could hurt her. Her body. Her mind. I could destroy her and hand him back an empty fucking shell only capable of retelling the stories of what I’ve done to her over and over again. I could ruin that beautiful body of hers in every single way possible. Frank Helburn would get the message loud and motherfucking clear.
Fuck with me and suffer the consequences.
But my revenge plans are ruined and so is my deal with Griff if the bitch is dead.
I lean against the wall with one leg raised, my boot flat against it as if she’s about to sing me a song instead of threatening to blow her fucking brains out. No matter what I can’t let her pull the trigger. It will destroy all my plans and I won’t fail. Not at this. As much as it pains me to rely on something or someone else, I need this crazy bitch.
I try to appear as calm as I can, but my blood is boiling. I’m angry, and I’m irritated. She could ruin everything on one pull of the trigger. “You’re gonna let this shit-bag be the reason for the end?”
She closes her eyes, and I can see by the way the hand holding the gun is shaking that she’s trying to grow the balls to pull the trigger.
“I’ll give it to you. You’re creative, but in this situation, suicide is the coward’s way out. I didn’t take you for a coward,” I tell her.
That part’s true. She’s not the shy meek girl I thought she was while watching her. She’s stronger than I thought. Defiant.
Wild.
Not to mention, out of her god damned mind.
Frankie’s breathing heavy. Her t-shirt is ripped down the middle exposing her taut stomach.
Her waist is small and trim and the way she’s breathing so erratically I can make out the shadows of her abs beneath her bruised skin. Her thighs and calves are shapely. I’ve never seen her workout in all the time I’ve watched her, but there’s no doubt the girl does more physical work than just walking to and from school every day.
Her banging body isn’t the only thing that throws me. Well, besides her complete lack of self-preservation. It’s her eyes. Originally, I thought her eye color was just another distortion in that grainy picture on my phone, but it turns out it was the only accurate thing about that picture. Bright yellow-gold with spots of orange. I’ve never seen anything like it. She’s got fucking flames in her eyes.
Fitting.
“If you wanna take the coward’s way out, go right on ahead. Pull the fucking trigger. I’m not gonna fucking stop ya,” I make a large sweeping motion with my arm.
She opens her eyes an
d slowly removes the gun from her mouth only to place it against her temple. My gun is still in my hand, but only in case she decides to swing hers my way.
“How is this the coward’s way out?” she asks. Her pupils dilate. Her bottom lip is bruised and swollen, a dried patch of blood in the corner.
I want to bite off the scab and catch the fresh blood on my tongue before it spills down her chin.
“I might as well die when and how I say so. There’s no other way out as I see it. If there was I’d take it. But at least this will be my choice. Not yours! Not my father’s. Not his!” Her eyes dart to the corpse on the floor. She lowers her voice and straightens her shoulders. There’s a determination in her words that makes me think I’m losing this battle.
And I don’t lose.
“That’s where you’re mistaken. Is this how you want to go? Is this WHEN you want to go? Pulling that trigger is going to make you meet the dirt, that’s for sure, but you’re lying to yourself if you think doing it this way is dying on your own terms. It’s a coward’s way out,” I remind her.
“Then I’m a coward,” she says, closing her eyes again and taking a deep breath.
Shit.
Something inside me clicks. I don’t want to see this girl blow her fucking head off. I don’t want to see the fire in her eyes die.
What a fucking waste.I think to myself.
I can’t take any joy in getting my revenge on Frank if his daughter is the one who pulls the trigger.
Frankie’s lips are moving silently. She’s counting to herself.
Fuck.
One.
Two.
I’m on her just as she squeezes the trigger. The gun goes off, the bullet missing her and grazing my shoulder. I’ve got the gun, and I’ve got her back to the floor, her wrists pinned above her head.
Her gaze is its own kind of bullet, shooting hatred straight through me.
“Face your fucking end like a man,” I say, tearing the gun from her hands and tucking it in the waistband of my jeans. I’m fucking fuming because some chick I don’t know and should want dead wanted to kill herself. My confusion is just as fucking infuriating as the girl fighting against me.
“I should have just killed you!” she grinds out, trying to free her hands from my grip.
In a really fucked up way I’m beginning to admire this girl. She’s got balls bigger than a lot of men I’ve dealt with in this business. Her unwavering rebellion stirs something deep inside of me. Something unfamiliar. I write it off as irritation because god-fucking-damn-it does she irritate me.
She’s kicking and punching.
I hold her still. I lean down close. “Yeah you should have killed me, hellion. It would have been the smart thing to do. But I’ll admit, it’s kind of fucking cute how you think you can take me out that easily. Try something like this again, and I’ll make you wish that bullet would’ve hit the fucking mark.” I produce my blade and run the sharp tip across her collarbone, slicing into the first few layers of skin to show her how serious I am.
She winces but then corrects herself and stares up at me unflinchingly as if she can’t feel the pinch of pain or the scratching of the blade followed by the droplets of blood running down her chest, staining her bra.
“There she is,” I say.
My cock twitches.
I lift the blade and hold it down between her legs, pressing the flat side up against her pussy through her panties. “I’ll cut you up from the inside out. Your death won’t be a pretty one. I hold the control here. Not you. You’d be wise not to fucking test me.”
Her eyes widen, her breaths are short, quick.
“Why?” she asks, her eyes wide and determined. “Why are you doing this? Any of this?”
I chuckle because I can’t help myself. She’s trying my patience and testing my restraint. “Because I took you, hellion. You’re all mine. Only I get to say whether you live or die.”
“You’re a monster.” she whispers on a shaky exhale.
You have no fucking idea.
I withdraw the blade and tuck it away. I brush a lock of dark hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, my fingers lingering on the delicate curve of her bruised and sliced neck.
“You’re right,” I whisper. “I am a monster.” Roughly, I grab her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye.
“I’m yourmonster.”
Chapter Sixteen
I wakeup from a dreamless sleep and even though I hurt all over I’m grateful to be alive.
I don’t know what I was thinking by trying to kill myself. Actually, I do know. I felt scared and desperate and backed into a corner. That’s not who I am. I won’t make the mistake again. I’m going to write it off as a moment of weakness and concentrate on escaping.
I look around and realize I’m no longer in the cell. I’m in a bed. A big one. It’s soft and the sheets and blankets are simple but smell clean.
I’m also completely naked.
Fuck.
I sit up slowly, pulling the blankets with me to cover myself. The pain doesn’t hit me like a hammer although I’m still very sore.
Smoke appears in the doorway, naked from the waist up. His chest is broad and so are his shoulders. His abs flex from underneath the colorful tattoos that cover almost every inch of his skin. He walks past me, crossing the room, He opens a door in the far corner. He disappears inside, and I hear water running. He comes back out and rips the sheets from my body.
I’m naked, and his gaze is trailing over my body. I can feel his stare on me. His eyes grow darker.
“No!” I shout, pushing him away as he grabs me by the waist. I turn over on my knees and try to scramble from his grasp.
“You want a bath or not?” he asks.
I still and turn toward him, covering my chest. I search his face for any trace that this might be a joke, but I don’t find one.
I nod because there’s nothing in the world that sounds better to my aching muscles than a bath. He lifts me again into his strong arms as if I weigh nothing, and I breathe through my nose deeply and try to calm the urge to push off his chest and run.
Smoke is much larger than me, but I don’t realize how much until I’m cradled in his arms. He’s massive. Taller than me by a foot and outweighing me by at least a hundred pounds.
He carries me over to the bathroom while I try and keep myself covered the best I can with my hands over my chest and my legs crossed at my thighs. He sets me on my feet beside the tub but I’m weaker than I thought. My legs shakier. I stumble.
Smoke catches me. His arm around my waist. He dips his hand into the water to check the temperature.
“I’m surprised you even check. Imagine what joy you could get out of tossing me into scalding hot water.”
“Don’t fucking tempt me, hellion.”