Page 33 of Mile High Heist

Of course, locking myself in a confined space with a sadistic murderer probably wasn’t the smartest move.

But I wasn’t going in alone. Not really. Ryle knew, and Madoc was watching. He was always watching.

With that, I opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Peter slipped in after me, already shedding his jacket. The door shut behind him, lock clicking in place.

“I don’t want to talk,” Peter said. His voice had changed, becoming darker, more predatory. “Turn around.”

Then he rolled up his sleeves, carefully, methodically. I glanced at his watch again, but his words distracted me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Turn. Around,” he repeated, like I was stupid. “I’m going to give you what you want.”

Terror flooded through me. My legs almost gave out. Slowly, every cell in my body protesting, I turned around, giving him my back.

His hand immediately found the nape of my neck. He shoved me forward, bending me over the vanity. My breath left me in a shaky gasp.

Oh god. Oh god.

His hand was rough on my skin, drawing up my skirt until it was bunched at my lower back. He pushed my panties aside, so I was completely exposed to him.

He didn’t give me a second to breathe.

I heard him fumble with fabric, then the snap of a waistband.

Was I really going to let him fuck me? Like this? For this?

No! My mind screamed.

I braced my hands on the vanity and pushed up. He immediately pushed back, shoving me so hard that the vanity edge cut into my chest.

“W-Wait. I’ve changed my mind. Wait. Just wait.”

Then his hand came down, slamming over mine, pinning it to the sink. The watch glared at me. I was so close that I could see every part of it.

And knew with certainty that it was a fake. A good fake.

The little engraving was a line of numbers, like a code.

Or a passkey.

Then he was leaning over me, lining himself up, and my mind went completely blank. I felt his cock drag against the back of my thigh.

“Tell me something,” he whispered in my ear. “Who are you really working for?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying I’d misheard him. His cock jutted hard against me, a warning.

“CIA?” he asked softly. “FBI?”

“N-No.”

His weight turned crushing, pressing out the last remaining air from my lungs. Panic turned my vision hazy.

“Not the feds,” he murmured into my ear like a terrible lover. “Someone on the other side, then. Which one?”

I gasped, my heart pounding harder at the lack of air.

“The Romanos?” He asked. “The Germans? Dr.Z?”