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The woman staring back at her might look the same on the outside, but her soul had been permanently altered.
Sometimes, a sick part of her wished the men who’d hurt her had left some kind of hideous scar for all the world to see. Maybe a big gash across her cheek. At least then, people she encountered could tell from first glance that she was messed up. Hiding the internal struggle was an exhausting practice that took a huge toll on her every single day. No one expected her to hate being touched or panic if men she didn’t know spoke to her. But maybe they would if they could see her scars.
“Uh, babe? You planning to release me anytime soon? I’m game for another round, but I could use a few minutes to stretch my arms first.”
With a resigned sigh, Chloe bowed her head. This had to stop. One of these days, she’d end up hurt or worse from the reckless behavior. She’d been through hell and honestly wouldn’t survive another attack. Neither would her family.
So why the hell did she continue to pick up random men at bars and fuck them? Why, and how did she manage to do this again and again when she’d flip out if a man so much as offered to shake her hand otherwise?
Because she was so very fucked up.
And because it was the only time she felt anything besides fear, depression, and disgust.
She flipped off the mirror. “What did I say about calling me babe?” she asked as she exited the bathroom.
“Sorry,” the guy shrugged. “You never told me your name.” He gave her a grin that was probably supposed to be boyish and playful, but now that she was done with him, it just made her skin crawl.
“And I never will,” she said scanning the floor for her clutch.
“Oh, that’s fine. My name is—”
“Nu-uh.” She held up a hand, using the other to rummage around for the handcuff key. “Don’t care. Didn’t care the first time you told me. I’ll uncuff you, then I’m taking off. Room is paid up through eleven am if you want to stay.”
His forehead wrinkled. While not her type with his fancy suit and over processed hair that probably cost more than her own highlights did, he was an attractive man.
She’d chosen this hotel for its beds. They had headboards with wooden slats, perfect for handcuffing her conquests. Spread out and at her mercy, what’s-his-name had the type of body her friends went nuts for. Gym honed muscles, sprinkling of dirty blond chest hair, smooth, ink-free skin. Way too clean cut and polished to get her motor revving, but then again none of this was really about sexual attraction.
At least not for her.
“You sure? I’m pretty much ready to go again now. We could switch positions and I’ll tie you up.” He shot her a wink.
Chloe’s heart nearly stopped dead in her chest as an icy wave of fear washed over her. Not for all the money in the world would a man ever restrain her in any way shape or form. Hopefully, would never do anything to get herself arrested, because she’d have the mother of all freak outs the moment the cops broke out the cuffs. With a shake of her head, she pushed past it. “Not how this works.”
She moved to the head of the bed and rested her knee on the mattress as she unlocked his right wrist.
Immediately, his freed hand landed on her thigh, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Chloe reacted without thought as though someone had pushed a button springing her into action. Her hand shot out, slamming into the man’s throat.
A strangled half choke, half wheeze came from him as his body jerked.
Shit. Looked like those instructional self-defense YouTube videos were actually working.
“Jesus Christ. What the fuck is wrong with you, lady?”
Well that was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. His words came out slightly garbled, like someone had throat punched the guy.
Oops.
“I’m sorry. You startled me.” Even to her own ears she didn’t sound very apologetic.
“That’s it? You try to kill me because I fucking startled you? You’re a crazy bitch.”
He had no idea.
Chloe slipped her feet into her heels. She’d be making a speedy getaway this time around. Quick as she could, she scurried to the other side of the bed. After unlocking the remaining cuff, she grabbed her clutch and darted toward the door. “Sorry again. Just be out by eleven.”
And now came the part of the evening that almost gave her cardiac arrest each time. Mace in one hand, keys threaded through the fingers of the other, she ran to her car like the devil himself was hot on her heels. After being kidnapped from a dark parking lot, she made sure to park directly under a lamp and always had her weapons at the ready.
