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At this, Neil’s head snaps up, but he still doesn’t speak. His eyes are filled with an unspoken challenge that makes the darkness inside me slither closer to the surface. He hasn’t looked at me once. Who the fuck is he to ignore me?
I eye the bandage that’s wrapped around his head, covering the handiwork he’s carried out on both his ears now. Letting my gaze drop, I notice the dried blood on the rest of his body. Even though I try to recall if I know what caused it, I keep coming up empty, which is all sorts of fucked up since I’m the one who did it.
Ugh, this is why I preferred the light off. I don’t want to see the result of the madness I let consume me.
Realizing that Neil still hasn’t answered Coen, I say, “Hmm, that might be overkill. We should probably work our way up to that,” I offer with a shrug.
I’m going completely off-script, but to Coen’s credit, he goes along with it. “What do you have in mind?”
A sinister smile spreads across my face as I say, “Neil loves to play games, so maybe we should indulge him.”
“That sounds like a treat,” Coen muses and arches one of his eyebrows.
“She loves the game where I cover her in my cum.” Neil’s voice is gravelly as he speaks, and I’m idly wondering when the bottle on the floor became empty.
Ugh, that fucking reminder… Maybe I’m out of my league being down here. The mere reminder makes me want to gag, and I feel Amanda prowling in my mind. I imagine her looking at me with a look that says, “Is it time to play?” And maybe it is, but I feel like I’d be betraying my guys if I let Amanda take over.
No, this has to be me or no one. Otherwise, it won’t work, and it has to. I want fucking answers. It’s clear that Neil’s ramblings about an associate weren’t boasting or a pathetic attempt at getting free. There’s no way that whoever sent the package isn’t the person he’s been hinting at.
Turning to Coen, I say, “I think we should play Truth or Nail.” Of course, Coen looks at me like I’ve lost my marbles, and maybe I have. “Just because I said to work up to the tongue doesn’t mean I don’t think we shouldn’t begin today. The most useless thing I can think of is his nails, and he has twenty of those. He can keep them all in exchange for twenty questions.” I slowly circle one hand in front of me, indicating that’s how the game will go until all his nails are gone or until we learn what we need to know.
“I love your brilliant mind,” Coen says before pulling me into a heated kiss.
It might all be for show, but the kiss… The kiss is as real as it can get. Coen’s tongue strokes mine as he cups my ass, and I moan into his mouth in response. It’s making me feel like I can do this.
At first, I don’t even notice it happening, and it isn’t until Amanda is entirely gone from my mind that I notice. With each flick and stroke from Coen’s tongue, he unknowingly banished her, making me feel more secure.
This is what I want. No, what I crave.
I reluctantly step away from Coen and watch as he maneuvers Neil around so he’s sitting in the corner instead of practically being in the middle of the room. Then he uncuffs one hand and attaches it to a ring further along the wall, so his arm is fully stretched. I watch him tighten the cuff as much as possible, making it harder for Neil to move his hand.
“There we go, all ready,” Coen announces.
Nodding, I play the ‘Thong Song’ on my phone as I walk over to the washing machine where Coen made a great deal of unveiling different knives, hammers, needles, crowbars, and yes, even mini nose pliers.
Bingo!
Picking up the pliers, I hand them to Coen, knowing that I won’t be able to do the honors. Although I don’t think I can physically do it without throwing up, that’s not the only reason. I need to occupy my mind, so I don’t blow Coen’s plans by screaming for answers. And right now, with nothing to do, it’s becoming increasingly harder not to march over there and scratch Neil’s eyes out.
So, I plan on taking a step toward making myself feel better about my body again. I don’t know whether it will work, and scary as that thought is, I feel like I have to. There’s no pretty or elaborate explanation. It’s as simple as that.
“Turn that off,” Neil begs as he thrashes against his restraints. “What the fuck do you want with me?” There’s no heat in his words. If anything, he sounds like his breaking point is within reach.
“Here’s the deal, Neil,” I don’t have to fake the chuckle at the unintentional rhyme. “You answer Coen’s questions honestly, and you get to keep a nail. If you don’t, well, then he’ll remove it.”
Neil turns his head and stares right at me. “You’re no killer, Baby.” It bothers me that he sneers at my former stage name. A name he has no right to use.
Picking up the crowbar, I walk over to Neil and grab his hair, using it to twist his head back in what I hope is a painful angle. “Do not ever call me that again. Actually, don’t call me anything—you have no right to use either of my names.” My anger makes my breath saw out, and my hand shakes.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I bring the crowbar down on his shoulder. Not hard enough to do any damage, just enough to let him know I’m not messing around here.
“What the fuck? You crazy bitch!” Anger and shock are palpable in Neil’s voice, with maybe even a hint of pain.
Good.
I throw the crowbar to the floor and shake my head when Coen calmly asks, “Should I gag him?”
“No, if you do, it will be too hard to hear his answers,” I say before turning toward my prisoner. “I was going to ease you into this. However, you keep running your mouth rather than taking the kindness I offer you. I was going to change the music, but you haven’t earned that. I was also going to let you remain dry…” With a shrug, I reach for the hose and turn the water on, drenching Neil from head to toe.
