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I shake my head. “Not going to change my mind. She did nothing wrong.”
“She was riding your cock while you were unconscious, moaning like a fucking whore.”
Heat rushes through my body at the suggestion that she felt some level of pleasure while they were forcing her to do what she was doing.
“Drop it,” I mutter as I close my eyes. I don’t need this man stepping up to seek any kind of vengeance for me, especially not against her. “Let me get some fucking sleep.”
He doesn’t say a word as he stands, closing the door softly behind him.
Chapter 17
Ayla
I inch my face just a little closer, but it doesn’t make what he’s telling me any more comprehensible.
“There’s protocol,” he says, his position firm despite the sympathy I see in his fucking eyes.
“Protocol? You have protocols about keeping me hostage?”
His jaw flexes, and I watch as he masterfully lets the irritation drain away. It’s like magic, seeing this burly fucking man calm himself with only two breaths, when the men I was with before would just stew in those emotions before taking it out on someone else.
“You’re not a hostage.”
“But I can’t go home?”
“Not yet.”
“I want to speak to your supervisor.”
He slow blinks at me, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made a mistake. With Pirro and the men who had me before, I knew I couldn’t ask such things of them. I could be wrong in wagering that I can with him.
“I’m the president.”
“I’ve been gone for a couple fucking months, not years. I’m not crazy, and you’re not the fucking president. I know America is trying to be all progressive and shit, but they’d never elect a man covered in—”
“Club president,” he interrupts.
“Well, I’m not a member of your fucking club, so your rules don’t apply to me.”
Someone on the other side of the hotel room attempts to cover a laugh with a cough. This president looks in his direction, but not in a way that makes me think the guy is going to get his ass handed to him for it. Like it would’ve happened under Pirro’s watch.
“We have to verify who you are,” he says, his voice so calm it’s irritating.
He’s making me feel like the crazy one, not the other way around.
“What we saw… this is a new situation for us. There’s protocol.”
He sounds like a broken record player, but that’s not the part I home in on. “What you saw?”
I swallow at realizing what he’s concerned about.
“You were the aggressor,” he explains, taking a step forward. “We have to make sure that—”
I shrink away from him, my bravery only going so far. Apparently, I’ve found the end of it with him.
“We’ve been able to trace some of your steps.”
I turn to face the woman who’s speaking, almost certain that she’s the one who wrapped the blanket around me. So much of it was a blur that I can’t be a hundred percent sure. “You’ve religiously called your sister, same time, same day of the week for months.”
Tears burn my eyes, and just like before, I do my best not to let them fall. I haven’t been around this group enough to know if I’ll be punished for crying, but I can’t help but hear the warning in her voice. It rips me apart from the inside that I may have just traded one set of captors for another.
“We’ve never seen a situation where captives have been able to call home. Most vanish without a trace. Sometimes we’re able to locate them and get them home.”
“I was being held captive by them,” I assure her. “They let me—”
“We found a copy of your resignation letter on file at the hospital you worked for,” the club president says.
“Your checking account has had bi-monthly deposits from the same organization that you’ve told everyone in Texas you were going to work for. We know that is a shell company for Raul Cortez’s cartel.”
I shake my head. “What?”
“You can understand now why we can’t just let you go,” the woman says, her voice calming in a way that I hate.
I don’t want to be calm. I want to rage against every single one of them for even hinting that they think I was a willing participant in what has happened to me over the last couple of months.
“From how things look right now, you were a paid employee, not a hostage.”
The tears choose now to fall, but they have no more effect on any of them than I imagine keeping them dry would’ve.
“They were going to hurt Alani,” I whisper.
“Your sister who just finished her first semester at Lindell University,” the tattooed man says.
I nod. “They took me from the parking lot at her dorm, the day before classes started. I… our parents…” My chin quivers. “I’m all she has. Sh-she’s all I have.”
