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In my exhaustion, I tried to play Bronson and beat him at his own game, but the only one I’ve played is myself.
“Bronson!” I call as the water inside my toilet begins to spill over, everything in here from the walls to my bed is completely saturated in the filthy liquid.
Commotion outside has my ears perking up. Guards are shouting orders, doors are slamming, and a moment later, my door swings open. A formidable looking guard storms in, his eyes blazing as he looks at the mess. He swings his gaze toward me, wearing a sinister sneer on his face. My arms are yanked behind my back and handcuffs are slapped onto my wrists as the guard restrains me.
Growling, he pulls me from the room and presses me against the hallway wall. “Don’t fucking move.”
Scared, I can only nod as he heads back into my room, only to come out a moment later. He eyes me hungrily, his gaze lowering to my wet T-shirt and my pebbled nipples poking at the thin, white material. “Let’s go,” he orders, grabbing my upper arm.
“Where are you taking me?” My voice wobbles when I ask, and I hate how weak I sound, like a scared fucking child and not a grown ass woman.
“Wherever the fuck I want.” He glares down at me then to see my reaction, and I know how I look. Wet and broken, with wide eyes and lips slightly parted on a gasp. He laughs and tugs on a strand of my black hair, making me flinch at his movements. “Detective Bronson is waiting for you,” he informs me after he sees the fear in my eyes.
I could almost cry I’m so relieved. But I’m grateful for this guard’s actions because it’s made me realize that I can’t live like this. I can’t exist in a tin can where no one knows I exist, and those who do could take liberties if they wished.
The guard leads me through the hallways, and I once again find myself staring at the outside of a door, this one grey and marked with a black stenciled number. A buzz sounds as it unlocks, and the guard reaches around me to open it. After shoving me inside, he pushes me down into the chair and binds me to the table again.
A shiver racks me, and I hear him chuckle. “Cold, are you? Let me turn up the heat in here. Of course, there are other ways I could warm you up.”
I level him with a glare and watch in horror as he turns the thermostat down, not up. A deep hum sounds, and then I’m blasted with freezing cold air.
“You’re a bastard,” I grit through my chattering teeth.
He stalks toward me with malice in his eyes. “And you look hot all tied up and cold, nipples hard, eyes so angry. If Detective Bronson—”
“What about me?” Detective Bronson asks as he pushes open the door.
The guard’s smile melts, but he tries to play it off. “I was just informing the prisoner that you were on your way.”
“Good. You’re dismissed.”
The guard tries to argue. “But, sir—”
“I said you’re dismissed!”
Now it’s my turn to be smug as the guard’s gaze flickers from the detective to me before storming out of the door.
Detective Bronson looks me up and down, a knowing expression on his face as I shiver, my teeth chattering as I sit frozen on this fucking metal chair. “I’m told you asked for me?” he says without a shred of emotion. The detective doesn’t sit in the chair opposite me this time. Instead, he plants his ass right on the table in front of me, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I’ll do it.” His eyebrows raise as he observes me. “I’m serious. I’ll do anything you ask. Just get me the fuck out of here.”
Bronson smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I knew you’d see it my way. I’ll be back soon.” Moving to his feet, he pats me on the head like a fucking dog and leaves, the door snapping shut behind him, sealing my fate.
I don’t know if this was the right move, but it’s the only one I’ve got. Let’s just hope I have what it takes to get the job done.
For Mitch-bitch.
For Mischief.
For me.
