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I still didn’t say a thing but stared out the window instead. I knew Nayla Bell was one of the best lawyers around. I had done my research on the woman. I had studied her every move just as she had studied mine. I also knew that if I wasn’t careful, it was very likely she would be able to read my face. She was trained to analyze people in a courtroom to aid her in battle. I wasn’t going to give her any weapon to use against me if I could help it. She might have been a fierce opponent within the four walls of the justice system, but she was nothing in my world. I would make damn sure she knew that fact by the time this night was over.
“Listen, motherfucker!” she shouted as she pummeled me with her fists. “Stop this car immediately!”
And there it was.
The reaction that I had truly expected.
I already knew Nayla Bell was no wilting flower. This was the spunk I had prepared for, and I already had a plan on just how I was going to handle this little pistol.
It didn’t take much effort to snatch both of her hands together while glaring directly into her eyes. “No,” I stated sternly.
“Fuck you,” she spat. Her eyes glared back but I could see a twinkle of fear in them. I had killed enough to know exactly what the look of fear was, and Miss Bell possessed it even though she was doing a hell of a job attempting to conceal it from me by her aggressive bravado.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” she continued as she struggled to free her hands from my hold.
“On the contrary. I know exactly who I am dealing with. You’re the only daughter of Jonathan and Naomi Bell. You were brought up as Daddy’s little rich girl—half Italian, half Jewish—but always struggled to live up to their version of perfection. You attended two different boarding schools and spent more time away from your home than in it. You went to Harvard to study law and graduated near the top of the class but not quite good enough… especially in your father’s eyes. Your mother is a socialite who has to attend a function nearly every evening or has to pop pills to control her anxiety of missing out. You work all the time and have very few friends. You both love and hate your job. You also love and hate your parents. So, yes, Nayla Louisa Bell, I know you.”
She froze.
I released her wrists and turned my head to stare out the window again. I’d given her enough to stew on to keep her behaving.
“You son of a bitch,” she screamed as she punched me square in the jaw.
I didn’t see that coming.
“You leave my family out of this! Do you hear me?” Nayla continued to punch me as I shook off the blinding stars from a strong right hook. “Torture me. Kill me. Rape me. Dump my body in some shallow grave, but leave them the fuck out of your sick madness!”
Snatching her wrists again, I struggled with her attacking body. “I’m giving you to the count of three to stop. One,” I snarled. “Two,” I continued as her body yanked and gyrated around in a futile combat. “Three,” I said as I flipped her body over my lap, pinning her down with the weight of my legs on top of hers to prevent her from kicking. I didn’t torture or kill women. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t torment her in other ways. Ways that might make her wish I chose to treat her like I treated the men who crossed me instead.
“Let me go!” she screamed over and over as I made sure there was no way she could break free from my hold. Nayla’s balled-up fists were pinned behind her back with one of my hands, and her body lay rigidly over my knee.
“Bad, bad choice, Miss Bell. Bad.”
Her shirt was already halfway up her torso exposing most of her stomach and all of her bottom half. Her panty-clad bottom was on full display, upturned on my knee as I pressed her down. She continued to demand her release, but I ignored her futile dictates.
“I’m about to show you what happens if you’re bad.”
Chapter Three
Nayla Bell
I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know if I should be afraid for my life, or livid with my attacker. Fury sizzled through me, but so did terror as I was held pinned down on Eddie Vasco’s lap.
Should I demand my release?
Should I beg for mercy?
Should I just accept my fate and…
What was my fate?
Death?
Rape?
Agonizing torture that I had only seen pictures of or heard horror stories about?
And what about my family? Were they in danger as well?
