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I tried to heave my body away from him but only managed to put myself face down on the cement, arms flopping uselessly, unable to hold myself up.
Everything tingled as though a thousand insects crawled over the surface of my skin.
“I think it’s time for another dose,” he said easily, and I rolled my head to the side to see him opening a long stainless steel case, saw the syringe inside.
“No,” I managed around the lump in my throat, struggling to pull myself away with fingernails digging into the concrete.
“Then behave yourself.”
I stopped struggling.
He dropped the syringe back into the case and set it next to him. I looked away from it quickly, not wanting him to catch me staring. If I could just keep him talking. Get my strength back. Then maybe I could give him a taste of his own medicine.
I opened my mouth to ask him something. Anything. But my tongue still felt fat in my mouth, uncooperative.
Drake lifted a brow at my sad attempt, blowing out a breath as he messed with his hair. I had no sense of time in here. No idea how long I’d been stuck in this cell. But he looked worn as fuck.
With dark circles under his bloodshot eyes—so maybe it was night then.
I noticed the color of his eyes, remembering how one was blue and the other brown that night at the Docks. How the roots of his hair had appeared darker than the ends. How, if this man wore a good pair of contact lenses and dyed his hair, he could be someone else entirely.
He seemed content to just sit there and watch me lie, naked and pathetic against the cold floor, but I needed to know if the theory trying to stick in my slippery thoughts was right.
“Jericho,” I managed, butchering the name, but I knew he understood me.
His face lit up with a wide smile, showing two rows of perfectly straight white teeth.
“I knew you’d be the first one to figure it out.”
So, this was theAceBecca was ‘dating.’
My stomach flipped, and I groaned, trying to hold in whatever was still in there when I remembered how I’d felt aboutDrakenot that fucking long ago.
Whatever I thought… whatever I felt…
It was long gone.
“Drake?” I asked. The feeling was returning to my tongue, but I slurred the word anyway. He needed to think I still couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak properly.
I never pretended to be a great actress, even during the height of mine and Dad’s con days, but I needed this to be an Oscar-worthy performance for it to work.
He narrowed his eyes at me in reply. Of course that wasn’t his name, either.
“Who?” I asked.
“Shhh,” he hushed softly, smirking. “There will be time for all that later.”
Pain sliced through my lower stomach, and I tried to pull my knees in.
“Bathroom?” Drake asked, and I realized that was exactly what the pain was.
No sooner did I realize it than my bladder completely lost control and warmth ran down my thighs, pooling around my middle.
“Oops, too late.”
“Fuck… you.”
His eyes roved over my naked body with a promise and I swallowed back bile.
