Page 77 of Ravaged With You

She tilted her head, clearly giving a silent order to one of the men, who pushed the metal door open and disappeared. “You should rejoice, Mr. Cooper. Soon you will see your love. Enjoy the moment, as you will soon lose her as well. Though do not worry. There will be time enough. I assure you, her death will be slow.”

“How the fuck did you survive?”

Her beautiful face contorted. “Against the odds, Mr. Cooper. And every moment I was trapped with my dead lover, I thought of you. I planned my revenge. And I waited for the opportunity.”

“You planned all of this. Mel’s death. The diamonds.” He hoped the words kept her distracted. At this point, he didn’t give a fuck how she’d pulled this off. All he cared about was slicing the bitch’s throat.

Behind his back, he beat the knuckle of each thumb against the scar tissue on his arms, hoping against hope that he could find the pressure point. That his fucked up plan would work, because God knew it wasn’t anything he’d ever had the opportunity to test.

“Of course I did. Mel Cooper was an easy mark. So bored in his marriage. So ready for glamour and passion.”

“I’ll never believe Mel would help smuggle or sell stolen diamonds. The only thing that surprises me is that you managed to pretend to be a woman decent enough to attract his attention.”

He forced his voice to stay level, hoping she’d assume the tightness and deep breaths he couldn’t avoid were a result of fear and anger, and not what he was doing behind his back.

Because now he had the knife.

One of two he’d had surgically implanted by the SOC’s chief surgeon after Seagrave gave him permission for the procedure. A design he’d come up with himself, then refined over a course of meetings with Dr. Hargrove. She’d been hesitant at first, but had agreed that the concept had utility. And if Red had wanted to be a guinea pig, then so be it.

Now, he could report back that the system worked. The applied pressure on his arm in just the right place had send the titanium blade forward at an angle, slicing up through the scar tissue. His curled fingers had made contact, and despite the slickness from the blood, he’d been able to grab the textured handle that had been scored for traction to ameliorate the risk of dropping the weapon in a situation exactly like this.

He hoped to hell there wasn’t much blood dripping on to the floor behind him as he strained to twist his hand and went to work on the ropes, even as his other thumb worked to release the blade hidden in his left forearm.

Each knife was only barely over four inches long, handle included, but it was something. More than something since he’d been training constantly with similar short blades since the week after he underwent the procedure. Blade work, martial arts, weight training. He’d never given it up; he’d kept in shape. He’d been preparing for a day like this.

“And here is your beloved,” the woman said, her voice still smug enough that Red was confident she didn’t know that his right arm was almost free.

He looked up, all of his pleasure at almost being free of the chair fading when he saw Jo. She was naked, her hands bound behind her as she half-stumbled into the room as the man dragged her toward a chair.

But the worst of it was when she whispered, “I love you.”

“Jo—oh, God, Jo. I will get you out of here,” he said as the last strand of rope binding his wrists snapped. “I swear it.”

The woman laughed, but Jo whispered “I know.” She was about to say something else, but the man landed a hard punch against her jaw.

When she lifted her head again, he saw the blood flow from the gash in her lip.

“Leave her the fuck alone.”

“No,” the woman said. “I think better to let her die slowly, as she already is. Boris, show our guest.”

The second man at the door—Boris, apparently—went to Jo, then released her hands. Then fell to her sides as she sat in the chair, pale and terrified. And with blood dripping from the slits on her wrists.

“You bitch,” he snarled. “I swear, I will fucking kill you.”

“No,” the woman said, moving closer to him, taunting him from less than a foot away. “You are helpless. And I shall enjoy spending this last bit of time together as she dies. And then, my dear Mr. Cooper, I’ll cut off your balls and leave you to bleed out, too. You see how I am kind after all? You will be following your whore into hell.”

The watch she wore emitted a short ping, and she glanced at it, frowning. “Tomas, go check the perimeter.”

The first man gave a quick nod, then left, leaving behind one hell of an opportunity.

Red hadn’t managed to release the left knife yet, but he also knew he might not get a better chance. With this back still strapped to the chair, he lunged up and around, using the chair legs to knock the bitch off balance. At the same time, he aimed the knife, hoping against hope that the hours of training paid off.

He let the knife fly, gratified when it lodged in Boris’s throat. To her credit, Jo lunged sideways, knocking the chair over as she lifted her arms and clutched her wrists, positioned now to staunch the flow of blood.

He wanted to go her, but the bitch was climbing back to her feet. Red spun again, but she jumped clear of the chair legs. His arm was unbound, but he hadn’t yet managed to free the second knife. Now, as the bitch burst toward him, howling obscenities, he slammed the side of his right hand down on the spring, releasing the knife with a burst of sharp, fresh pain.

He relished it. Let it fuel him as he rounded on her, sending her and him and the chair tumbling. He slit her throat, one quick slice, and then to be sure, he lifted his body and then chair, then slammed it down hard on her chest.