AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I know where I am,” is all he says. A real smile crosses my lips.
“Excellent, that makes this easier,” I say as I stand, brushing invisible lint from my pencil skirt. “You know what we do, what I do. We can do this any number of ways, but I promise you, I will find out your name.”
He smirks but says nothing. I shrug and move to the door to knock, the immediate sound of a turning key following.
“Suit yourself,” I tell him with my back to him. “But it looks like you already have enough scars on you. Maybe think about it for the next twenty-four hours, and we’ll see if you’re a bit nicer and chattier then.”
Despite the intense urge to turn around and see his face once more, I don’t turn around, letting the heavy iron door close behind me.
Chapter 3
Sin
My head has been poundingsince I woke up, unsure if it’s from the punches or the drugs they gave me. Fucking amateurs. Pick a goddamn method of taking someone out, then stick to it. You don’t drug someone and then hit them in the head. It makes no fucking sense.
Though in hindsight, the punches may have been for the broken forearm. That or they were just cheap shots. Had they gotten one on me under normal circumstances, I probably would have bought the guy a beer.
Instead, the fucker kicked a down man.
Soon enough, I’ll get out of here, and I won’t forget what he did.
Pretty blond motherfucker.
I shift my shoulders slightly, not enough to move the chains that keep me pinned. I don’t doubt they are watching me, and I don’t intend to show an ounce of fucking discomfort even though my body is screaming with tension. I have to consciously ignore the feel of the chains on my skin, holding me down.
My eyes move around the room which looks like something out of a medieval dungeon, and I must admit, I like it. The smell of dampness and old blood fills my senses, and honestly, it reminds me of home. The ginger bitch probably thinks this place is fucking scary or something, but the woman has no fucking clue. I resist chuckling when I think of what she renamed herself. What kind of fucking redhead actually calls herself Ginger?
I know her real story, though. Fucking Russian bitch. I’ll give it to her, the accent is almost completely gone, and if I didn’t know her story, I’d have no fucking clue. As it stands, she’s probably one of the most wanted women in the world, under both her alias and her real name.
I feel the corner of my mouth turn up, but there is no humor in it, only the low thrumming anticipation over the bloodshed to come.
Bitch has no fucking idea the mistake she made bringing me here.
Chapter 4
Ginger
Physically powerful menseem to believe the endurance of pain is a measure of one's worth. While I absolutely have respect for those who can take pain—hell, I’d demand the same after what I’ve been through—they don’t realize where true power is held.
And every man has a limit on how much pain he can take, even if he hasn’t found it yet.
My mind continues to wander back to the scars on Sin’s back, the familiarity of them.
I’ve known men who put cigarettes out on their own skin before. Especially back home. It wasn’t the most uncommon thing, and I even knew a few men with thickened scars from years of putting them out in the same spot. Some kind of macho bullshit I never understood.
But it wouldn't be possible to reach your shoulder and create the scars I saw there. Someone else did that. My hand brushes over the multiple circular burns on my own arm, and I wonder how someone was able to overpower a man like Sin to give him the same scars.
I haven’t put my finger on exactly what it is yet, but there is something about Sin....
It’s clear he can withstand pain, but I’ve known many men who can do that. He’s bigger than most men I’ve known; he has got to be at least 6’5 and a good few hundred pounds of muscle. He’s also more scarred and horrifying than most TV monsters. The pocked and knotted skin would be terrifying to most.
But it isn’t any of those things.
It’s something else entirely, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop thinking about it until I know what.
The systems we have in place here mean we can track almost anyone on the planet and find out who they are, where they live, and basically anything else. The rarity of finding someone PDC can’t track down is something special in itself.
Kris wasn’t kidding about his curiosity comment earlier. He knows me well enough to know how much trouble I’ve gotten myself in to because I couldn’t let something unknown go. Curiosity could very well be the death of me one day, but that’s not likely to stop me.
