Page 9 of No One Has To Know

My mouth falls open. Logically, it also makes sense that he’s responsible for this. He was the last person I saw before I woke up down here, but he’s… he’s acop. He’s supposed to be the good guy. And, sure, my previous experiences with the police work against him, but Burns… he was a nice guy. He saved me from being robbed, and he came by the flower shop to make sure I was doing okay.

But that’s logic. Instinct tells me something different—and I don’t know which one is right.

“Officer Burns? What… what’s going on?”

He’s supposed to be the good guy, but if he is, why is my impression of him so devilish? It only grows when his grin widens before he clicks his tongue, shaking his head slowly. With an easy, casual grace, he moves a little closer, crossing his arms over his brawny chest when he gets halfway to me.

“Angela, Angela, Angela… you should’ve known better.”

I’m not surprised he knows my name. Since he took over the patrol outside of Louise’s, we’ve been friendly enough. He was Burns, and I was Angela, though sometimes he would tease and ask me what an angel like me was doing in a rough neighborhood like Springfield. It always seemed like a play on my name and I never thought twice.

Now I am.

I still don’t get it. Known better? Know better aboutwhat? “Me? Why? What did I do?”

He arrested me. I still don’t know why, only that Dean had just driven off when Officer Burns suddenly appeared. Shouldn’t I be down at the SPD station if I really did something wrong? Because I’m pretty sure this isn’t it—

—and Burns’s unexpected answer seals it.

“What did you do? You tried to give yourself away to another man. You’re not allowed. That pussy ismine.”

I blink.

What?

I take a deep breath. I can’t help it. The second I realize that this was no accident, that somehow I’m cuffed to a tiny bed in a chilly, musty room with Officer Burns talking about my vagina belonging to him, I only have one thought left:scream.

I barely get out the beginning of a blood-curdling yell before he’s right there, bending over me as he grips my jaw in a bruising hold. He squeezes, the pain powerful enough to strangle the sound mid-scream. I choke, especially when he forces my teeth to click close.

He doesn’t squeeze for long. The moment my scream dies, he releases his grip. I get the feeling he didn’t want to hurt me, but he also isn’t going to stand there and let me scream bloody murder.

Especially when he angles my chin so that I’m forced to meet the steely look in his dark blue eyes as he says, “Don’t scream again. If you scream, I’ll have to gag you. But it won’t be with material.”

Letting go of my face completely, he rises up until he’s standing, then drops his hand to his crotch. He’s swearing his police uniform, but the pants don’t have enough give to hide the obvious bulge he’s sporting.

“I have something that fits perfectly in your mouth,” he adds, leaving no doubt what he means, “and when you scream again, I swear we’ll both like it.”

Not so sure I agree with that last part, but it doesn’t matter, does it? His meaning is perfectly clear: no screaming or else I’ll be choking on his dick instead.

Got it. As if the ‘pussy’ comment didn’t make it perfectly clear, sex is on his mind. He can keep it there, just like he can keep his dick in his pants.

My mouth is still closed from how he forced it shut. Refusing to unscrew my jaw—if only because I can just see him taking that as permission to do whatever the hell he wants to me—I press my lips firmly together and give him a jerky nod.

“Good girl.”

Okay. The way he purrs the praising comment like that? I can’t help the sound that escapes me. It’s not a scream, but a whimper that seems to echo around the quiet basement.

Damn it. I wish I could’ve been silent. Actually, no. I wish I could be defiant and dare him to do it. After all, this isn’t some kind of accident. Bringing me to this musty room, cuffing me to a bed, threatening to fuck me… Burns has a motive that I’m trying desperately to ignore.

Because, deep down, I know why I’m here. I know what he wants from me.

No. What heexpectsfrom me. And there’s a pretty good reason why he’s chained me to this tiny cot, hidden away like this.

Mine…

5

ANGELA

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