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“Pain? They beat them?” she asked.
“Sometimes, or if the woman doesn’t do what is asked completely, she suffers the greatest amounts of pain,” Dexter stated.
Martin released her face.
“You have a lot to think about. But don’t believe for one moment that we would send you to the wolves without training,” Martin said.
“I’m not interested.” He released her hand and stared straight ahead.
“You will be. I’d hate to have to kill you,” he stated very seriously and without taking his eyes off of Tara.
J.J. heard the scream and then the sound of something banging. She jerked up, not remotely close to being over Martin’s statement and threat of killing her, to see Tara’s head being smashed against the table.
“Prentice!” Martin yelled out. Prentice immediately headed toward Tara and the man in black who was thrusting into Tara from behind while he beat her. J.J. closed her eyes and felt her body shaking. Tara was going to die right here in front of her.
“Let me up. I can’t watch this.” J.J. raised her voice as Martin stood up, just as Prentice pulled the man in black off of Tara. J.J. saw his face and had to hide her gasp. Congressman Dooley? Holy fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, God, no. This is really bad.
She turned away, uncertain if the man would recognize her or not. He had been so involved in pushing information onto the public about the case. He could easily have gotten information on the investigation and the undercover operation.
Oh, God, no. Oh, God, he probably knew about Marlee and Denise. Marlee knew Dooley. He was up for reelection. Everyone wanted to elect him. He was for the cops, the first responders, and for military. Oh God. No one would believe this.
“Jade, darling. Are you okay?” Dexter asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. She felt him thrust his cock against her from behind. She was nearly against the table. His mouth was on her neck, and she thought he was going to try to rape her.
She pulled from his grasp.
“I’m going to be sick. I need a restroom,” she stated.
“Take her, Dexter. Then bring her to our room. There’s no need to waste time pondering over her choice. After watching that scene unfold, I’ve got some things I’d like to try on our little songbird.”
She knew what things he wanted to do. She’d just witnessed a sexual assault. Even though Tara had claimed to want it, and had allowed it, it was still a crime. She was nearly beaten to death.
“Martin. We have a problem,” Prentice stated. She turned to look, along with Martin and Dexter, who had his hand on her shoulder.
“What’s the fucking problem?” he asked.
Congressman Dooley downed a drink as he pulled up his fly and stared straight ahead. He saw her. Would he remember who she was?
“I think you owe me, McCue. She didn’t do a good job fulfilling my fantasy. How about that one?” he yelled from across the room and stared at J.J.
J.J. took a quick glance behind him. Tara lay motionless on the floor, blood dripping from her temple, dress ripped, mouth bloodied. She thought about the pictures from the crime scenes of the other victims. These men were a bunch of rapists and murderers. How many more were out there? How many women were still missing? The rage, the anger was becoming too much to bury.
As she looked up, the congressman was approaching. “I need the ladies’ room,” she said and Dexter pulled her closer.
“Wait. Let me see her. She’s got the tits I wanted. Look at those fuckers. She’d be perfect,” he said and then stopped a few feet in front of her as Martin placed his hand up for the congressman to halt.
“Martin. Tara isn’t breathing,” Prentice yelled out.
J.J. was shocked, and looked toward Martin and the congressman stared at her.
“I’ve seen you before,” he stated.
She needed to think quickly and get out of there. Tara was possibly dead, murdered.
“She’s in the show. She’s one of the best acts we got,” Dexter said as he held her from behind and then cupped her breast. She kept her face away from the congressman. If he identified her, she was dead. She remembered her switchblade, and reached into her purse even though all she wanted to do was to push Dexter’s grimy hands off her breast. “They feel nice, I bet. Are they real?” the congressman asked.
You are so fucking dead. You’re over, Dooley. You rotten, no good son of a bitch.
Martin was walking toward Tara.
