Page 275 of Coal Hearts

Her eyes met mine, wide and worried as Roland grabbed her nape and shoved her face first, right between Victor and me. Her golden cuffs and collar clanked against the table, her wrists knocking crockery and scattering the condiment caddy to the floor.

Every instinct roared to slit Roland’s throat with the butter knife, but...whatever new game this was, I had to win.

And I have to keep my wits.

Settling into my chair, I cocked an eyebrow. “Trying to prove that your guests jump at your every command and your jewels have no control, Master Jeweler?”

I stressed his title like he’d stressed my name.

He didn’t seem to care; merely laughed under his breath. “Oh no, my lying friend. Merely trying to see how far you’ll go to prove you’re not what you truly are.”

“You think by tossing Ily on my plate, I’ll what? Confess I’m a cop?”

“I think watching Roland fuck her in front of you will force you to admit the truth. Especially if I promise to stop him if you merely admit that you’re a snitch and a rat and a motherfucking dead man.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “Gotcha.”

“So...?” Victor raised an eyebrow. “One last chance, Henri. Will you or will you not admit you’re an officer of the law? Are you from an English force? French? Interpol? Who?”

“I told you.” I refused to look at Ily, panting with pure fear on the table. “I’m not a cop.”

“Roland.” Victor flicked his snuff-watching, necrophiliac friend a smile. “Fuck her.”

“About damn time.” Roland ran sausage fingers down her spine and shoved his hand between her legs.

“Get off me, you sick bastard!”

She screamed.

She thrashed.

Her sudden ferocity knocked Roland off balance, sending him reeling. Swooping upright, she looked as if she’d run, but then with the softest snick of a remote, she gasped, went rigid, then flopped back over the table, twitching and moaning in agony.

Victor held his electricity remote directly against her collar, his blue eyes dead of emotion. “Do I have to do everything for you, Olivan?” He rolled his eyes at Roland.

Roland fumbled with his zipper. “No, bijoutier.”

“I’m surrounded by idiots.” Removing his thumb from zapping Ily, Victor waited a few seconds for her to stop convulsing and then nodded. “Get your cock out and fuck her then. Let’s see how many thrusts it takes Henri to admit he’s—”

“I’m not a damn cop.” Rage accented every word. “And if he sticks his dick in her, I’m going to be extremely pissed off.”

“Why? Because you promised to save her before any other man had a taste?”

“No. Because she’s mine. We had a deal.”

“Deals have a habit of expiring if one party is a conniving snake.” Victor looked idly at Roland as he shoved his shorts down and revealed a stubby, fat cock.

Ily gathered her strength and tried to kick backward, aiming for his knee as he wedged a hand on her nape. “Don’t touch me, you diseased—”

“Shut up.” Roland pressed his naked thighs against her ass. “Or I’ll rip out your ungrateful tongue.”

He bent his legs.

He fisted himself to—

“I told you.” I launched out of my chair and round-housed him right in the face. “I’m not. A. Fucking. Cop!”

One punch.