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Sick dread rolled through me, settling in my stomach like a ball of molten lead. The sour taste of it filled my mouth. But with it all was that same sense of rage at what Lucas had gone through, had been forced to go through.
“I don’t have his number,” I snarled, shooting Dewey a look over my shoulder.
He yanked my wrist higher up between my shoulder blades.
Hot agony ripped through me. I cried out, arching onto my tiptoes in an instinctual attempt to escape it.
“Lucky I do,” he sneered into my ear.
And then he turned us both around and shoved me up the stairs.
I tripped and stumbled up every rise. He didn’t release my wrist at all. In fact, I think he shoved my wrist higher up my back. My shoulder joint felt like it was going to explode in a fireball of pain.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg him to let me go. I wanted to plead for him not to hurt me.
But more than anything, I wanted Lucas to be as far away as possible.
“Have you had his cock in your mouth yet?” he asked, the words like a humid blast against my ear.
“Fuck you,” I ground out. If I planted my feet and shoved backward, would we both fall? Maybe, if I fell on him as we tumbled, he’d snap his spine or something?
I planted my foot on the edge of the stair and froze when the cold muzzle of his gun nudged my temple. “Blood is so hard to get out of clothes, pussy cat.” He sniggered. “And I like this shirt I’m wearing a lot.”
“Shoot me if you want,” I said, even as my stomach lurched and my mouth went dry. “But I won’t help you get Lucas. Ever.”
Dewey drilled the end of his gun harder to my temple as he tugged my wrist higher still up my back. “All you have to do is let him see you, Veronica. He and I will work out the rest.”
I closed my eyes and an image I so didn’t want to see filled my head—Lucas, in this prick’s clutches, being at his sexual mercy because of me…
“You want to fuck me that bad, Dewey?” Lucas’s smooth, deep voice slid through the air, snapping my eyes open.
He stood at the top of the stairs, barely a few feet away, smiling down at us. His eyes however, were colder than the Artic.
“Then come on up and fuck me,” he finished. “If you can.”
Officer Dewey grew motionless behind me. His grip on my wrist turned to a cruel pincer.
“You shouldn’t have spoken to the cops about me, Lucas,” Dewey admonished.
A twitching pressure nudged my butt, and I realized he was getting an erection. Oh God. At the sight of Lucas, he was getting an erection. This was?
?this was…
“But thank God for me you chose Kitchner,” he finished.
Lucas’s cold stare didn’t sway from Dewey’s face. “Kitchner is dead.”
The grip on my wrist squeezed tighter. The gun tip pressed harder to my head. I could feel tension leech off Dewey like poisoned sludge. “Bullshit.”
That slow smile stretched Lucas’s lips again. Once again, it didn’t make it to his eyes. “Do you want to see the pics on my cell?”
“When?” Dewey snarled
Lucas laughed. A chill rippled over me at how icy and humorless it was. “Shouldn’t the question you ask be how am I alive? Given you and Kitchner arranged for me to be taken care of two nights ago?”
Dewey grew still. “You killed him then? Along with the Trinity fuckers?”
Lucas arched a non-committal eyebrow.
