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Our eyes hold in a silent battle of wills, me desperate for him to confirm that he hasn’t dove into my deepest, darkest thoughts without permission and him urging me to just spill, to finally release all my best kept secrets.
“Start with the names. I’ll make sure they burn in hell just like Jonno. I don’t care who they are. No one under my watch treats girls like that.”
All the air rushes from my lungs, feathering over his face.
His lids lower ever so slightly, but I’m so close, I’ve no choice but to notice his reaction to me.
Butterflies take off in my stomach as hope blooms.
Does he really mean that?
If I tell him everything, will he help me make a change?
Will he… will he help me search for the truth about my sister? Will he try and give all those other families with missing girls answers, closure? Hope?
It takes a couple of seconds, but I manage to gather myself enough to respond.
“Just one problem there, Big Man. None of this is on your watch. What exactly do you think you can do about any of it?”
I’m so lost in his dark eyes and the hope his previous words gave me that I don’t see his arm dart out. I sure fucking know about it when his fingers wrap around my throat and I’m forced back until I’m lying out on the couch I was on not so long ago with him looming ominously over me.
His chest heaves, forcing his breath past his lips. The warmth rushes over my face and makes my skin erupt in goose bumps.
He is one of—if not—the most dangerous men in this town and here I am getting turned on being completely at his mercy.
I always knew I was fucked in the head. Nothing but a product of my abusive upbringing. But it’s never been as obvious as it has been since Reid locked me up here.
Fear and lust are just different sides of the same coin, so tightly intertwined that I can’t even begin to separate them.
I gaze up at him with wide eyes as he glares at me. The air around us crackles as the silence stretches on. My skin prickles and my body aches with the need to feel his hands on more than just my throat.
His grip on me is just short of being perfect, his fingers dig into those two magical spots on either side of my throat that promise the perfect oblivion.
“Please.” The whimpered plea slips from my lips without instruction from my brain. My face burns with shame that one touch from him reduces me to this level of pathetic.
I don’t want him.
I hate him.
My husband hates him.
But my body doesn’t care. The broken little girl who, despite everything, craves the touch, the pain, and the feeling of being at the mercy of a dangerous man screams the opposite.
His lips curl into a snarl.
“You really are nothing but a dirty whore,” he sneers. “If only your husband knew the truth. I doubt he’d be as desperate to rescue you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I bark, anger licking at my insides at his mention of Mav. “Mav is a better man than you’ll ever be.”
“I guess that depends on your definition of better. He’s weak and allowed himself to be wrapped around your little finger. All the while you’re running around town whoring yourself out like it’s your favorite hobby.
“He won’t want you when he learns the truth. Or maybe he already knows and it’s why he refuses to stick his dick inside you.”
My hand moves before the decision is made. It’s a knee-jerk reaction in my need to protect my husband.
Crack.
Reid’s eyes flare with fury as my palm collides with his cheek.
