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Is that possible?
I mean, I know it’s possible if there are two of them… But who could that be? It was a Sunday, so I suppose, technically, it could have been anyone.
Not betraying his feelings on the matter, Coen asks, “Can you tell me who did it?”
“I don’t know exactly who it was. I don’t know the guys he hired.”
While Coen nods, I feel my brain stitching something together, something that always seemed off to me. Or maybe not off, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it.
“Were you the one who had Mark attacked?” I ask, needing to know if my hunch is correct.
Rather than answering, Neil shakes his head, and that resonates with me. I might be naïve, but a part of me believes him.
“Did the person who cut Kas’ brakes also attack Mark?”
Neil nods.
“Was that person in your office the day you forced Alec and me in there?”
Another nod.
My body feels as though it’s vibrating as I’m slowly piecing this together.
Does this mean Neil is innocent? Or that he doesn’t deserve to be here? Hell no! But maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this than we’d first assumed.
“How did your associate feel about you attacking me in the club during the Saints and Sinners party?” I ask, feeling like I already know the answer.
“He was livid. He made me punish Lila while he watched.”
What? Fuck, the bruises on Lila’s body…
Interrupting my line of questioning, Coen asks, “Can you tell us the real name of your associate?”
With a defeated look in his eyes, Neil says, “I don’t know if anyone knows his true name, myself included. But the name I know him by isn’t the same name you know, so it won’t help you.”
Clearly annoyed with Neil’s vagueness, Coen removes the second nail, and this time I keep my eyes closed.
“What’s the name you know him as?” Coen asks.
“Bernard,” Neil cries.
Frowning, I look at Coen and shake my head. I don’t know anyone by that name.
Clenching my fists, I feel my nails dig into my skin, welcoming the sting of pain. “What do I call him?”
“I can’t tell you,” Neil says in a grave tone. “Whatever games you’re playing down here are nothing compared to what he will do to me. Truthfully, I hope you will kill me because whatever you do will be less than what he has in store for anyone that fails him. And I’ve been here so long now that he’s undoubtedly getting ready to make his move.”
Shivers run down my spine as I take in Neil’s admission. I sincerely thought everything was fine now that Neil couldn’t hurt me anymore, but it turns out my sense of security was running on borrowed time.
Although Coen removes two more nails while repeating the question I had asked, Neil still doesn’t answer, and he loses another nail.
“That was one hand,” Coen says before changing the cuffs around so he can reach Neil’s other hand.
I stand on shaky legs, still leaning against the wall. Right now, I’m not feeling confident about what I want to do, but I know it’s now or never. With trembling hands, I remove the dark green dress I’m wearing and reveal the skimpy lingerie I’m wearing beneath. Rolling my shoulders, I dig deep to become one with my old mindset. The one that’s served me for all the years of stripping. Try as I might, I can’t find my happy place. It feels like it’s constantly slipping through my fingers.
Clenching my jaw, I keep my gaze averted. I’m standing in front of Coen and Neil in nothing but my bra and a pair of frilly Brazilian panties, feeling both their gazes burn into my skin. Although sweat gathers on my forehead and my legs feel as though they might give out on me at any moment, I refuse to back down.
Before Neil made himself the wrecking ball to take me down and obliterate my confidence, I used to love dancing. I used to love my body and take pride in showing it off. That feeling is something I want to get back. I don’t merely want to feel good in my own skin, I want to feel in charge.
