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Because there’s two of us now. There’s me… and there’s the baby in my belly.
The Bloodhound laughs like he can hear what I’m thinking. He looks me up and down and laughs again. “Anybody hurt you?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Good.”
It’s not a very reassuring use of the word “good.” He doesn’t want anyone else to hurt me—but only because he wants to savor every scream, every whimper, every cry for himself.
He looks at Anton and jerks his head toward the door. “Beat it.”
Anton shoots me a look. I don’t know if it’s an apology or just pity, and I don’t have the time to figure it out before he leaves. The door screams open, whispers shut.
And then I’m alone with the devil.
2
SLOAN
The Bloodhound is a vulture circling me. Close enough to touch, though his hands stay in his pockets.
For now.
“I’ve called a friend of yours to come pick you up,” he rumbles.
My heart plummets. “Wh… who?”
His grin is the picture of what evil does to a face. He’s lined and scarred and his teeth are stained, as if the things he’s consumed—cigarettes and souls and small woodland creatures that sing songs, probably—have left their mark on him.
“Don’t worry about that just yet.” He takes the seat Anton was sitting in. “First, you and I need to have a chat.”
“I’d really rather not.”
His grin curdles on his face. Moving faster than I would’ve thought possible, he leans over and grabs hold of my hand, then yanks me so that I stumble forward and fall to my knees in front of him.
“Oh, now,thatI like.” His tongue slides along his lower lip. “I like you on your knees in front of me.”
I knock his hand aside and struggle back to my feet against the wishes of my aching body. “N-no.”
He nods, but makes no move to touch me again. “You’d rather pay the money. I understand.” Leaning back in his seat, he strokes his beard with one hand. “You know, your father was a good man.”
He wasn’t, but I’m not going to argue that point. He did the best he could. It just wasn’t enough.
And now, I’m paying for it.
“What do you want?”
As soon as I say it, I regret it because of his hooded eyes and the tongue that keeps poking out like he’s a hissing snake with a forked, poisoned tongue.
“I saw your new digs. The boyfriend. You’ve been holding out on me, Ms. Reeves.”
My knees weaken.Fuck.I can’t have Beck brought into this mess. I push the panic back down, because I don’t want the Bloodhound to see how much of a trump card he’s really holding.
“Holding out on you?” I shake my head. “No. Not at all.”
Where I live shouldn’t affect the payment amounts, but it isn’t like this is an FDIC-insured loan. This is with the Bloodhound, a bastard who plays by his own rules.
He smiles and shakes his head. “Oh, my sweet, sweet Sloan. You should know better than to lie to me.” Uncrossing his legs,he leans forward again and reaches out to cup my cheek. “I’ve offered you this deal before, but maybe you’ll be more open to it now: I’ll let you suck off this week’s payment. If you’re good, maybe next week’s, too.”
