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She shakes her head. “Why is it always the slimeballs that have to resort to abusing women? I mean, look at you,” she says, pointing at me. “Then look at those three asses. There’s no way they can get a woman without resorting to violence.”
Chuckles sound behind us, and I know she’s making the prisoners angry. But she’s not going to get hurt. None of these fuckers can get free of their bindings.
“You’ve always been such a bitch,” Marco snarls.
“So have you,” she replies sweetly. “Are you excited?” she asks as she moves toward him. At the confusion in his eyes, she elaborates. “To see your son. It’s been almost six years since that animal was killed, but now, you can finally see him. There’s a special place in Hell for rapists, and all three of you will be going.”
“I’m not a rapist,” the judge splutters. “I’m not.”
“Yeah, because fucking an eleven-year-old isn’t rape,” Stephen hisses.
“I didn’t force her,” he shouts, whimpering when Stephen takes a step closer to him. “I didn’t do anything she didn’t want.”
I glare at him, completely sickened. What a fucking bastard. He’s the lowest of lows.
Stephen doesn’t speak as he jabs his knife into the judge’s side. The brutal force he uses must cause some severe damage to the judge, especially as he roars with pain. “Don’t fucking sit there and tell me you didn’t force her,” Stephen hisses in his face. “You did and you know it. No eleven-year-old wants a fucking sixty-year-old man.”
He doesn’t say anything, no doubt scared of what Stephen will do if he opens his mouth and argues with him.
Portia turns to Robert. “Where’s Jamie?” she asks him. We haven’t been able to find out where she is. None of the women or girls in the hotel have seen her, and when we showed them a picture, they had no idea who she was. I have a feeling that Jamie never made it through the night she was taken.
Marco laughs. “That bitch,” he sneers. “She was just like you. She couldn’t keep her fucking nose out of what didn’t affect her. She had to pay the price.”
Portia glares at Robert. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she asks him, her voice low but filled with anger. “You’re the one who took her that night, weren’t you?”
Robert nods. “Yes. I was under orders. Jamie was getting too close. She needed to be stopped.”
“What did you do?” I ask, ready to snap his neck at any moment, especially when he’s giving Portia big, sad eyes, as though he’s remorseful for all that he’s done. He’s full of shit. Men like us, we don’t regret what we do when we’re given orders. It’s who we are. It’s what’s ingrained in us. We’ll never be remorseful.
“I shot her,” he says, turning his head away. “I had no choice.”
“Where’s her body?” Kelvin snarls. “Where did you leave her?”
“Frogs Hollow Forest,” he replies. “She’s not far off the path.”
Portia sucks in a sharp breath and Kelvin turns on his heels and leaves the warehouse, his cell at his ear. He’s going to have his men find her body.
“What did she ever do to you?” Portia asks.
“It wasn’t personal,” he says. “It was business.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses. “It was fucking personal when you were sleeping with her.”
His eyes widen. “You knew?” he says. “How?”
“Surely you know that women tell each other everything,” Maverick says thickly. “How long did you sleep with the woman for?”
“Over six months. I caught them going at it in his office on my first day. Jamie asked me not to tell anyone. She didn’t want to get in trouble.” Portia shakes her head. “It was personal, you bastard. I hope you die a painful death.”
The grin he has is mocking. “Shame we didn’t get to see you used up. We’ve been waiting since you were sixteen.”
Portia doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she’s had enough. She holds out her hand. “Knife please,” she says softly.
I reach for mine and lay it in the palm of her hand. She reaches up on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Thank you.”
I watch with a smile as she saunters over to Marco, turning the blade in her hand as she does. “Marco,” she says, and her disdain is clear for everyone to hear, “you are a piece of shit. A little man who has to rape women in order to feel like a man. What is it, can’t get hard unless you’re dominant?” She taunts as she runs the tip of the blade along his face, down his cheek, and toward his lips. “You are worthless,” she says loudly, digging the blade into the corner of his mouth and pulling it outwards. She carves his smile bigger into his face. Blood trickles from the cut and falls onto his crisp white shirt.
“Fuck you,” he snaps, pulling against the bindings, trying to get to her.
