Lowering myself into the chair by my desk takes a lot of courage, but I do it. Once the initial flare of pain blurs, it’s almost bearable, but it won’t be tomorrow. Still, I’ll enjoy my meal sitting down for today at least. Pulling the silver dome off, I am greeted by a plate of creamy, pancetta and parmesan pasta. It’s exactly what I’ll need for a brutal workout, although my stomach disagrees. Pushing the first forkful into my mouth tentatively, my taste buds close around something incredibly aromatic and flavourful. Someone has cooked this fresh to order, and even though it’s been sitting here a while, it tastes no less wonderful for the fact. Before I know what’s happening, I’ve eaten three-quarters of my meal, and there is no chance that I will leave anything.
When I’ve finished, I pour myself a glass of water and take the two tablets I’ve laid out. Making my way back over the bed, I then lie down, and in seconds, I am fast asleep. Sinking into a dreamless, exhausted sleep, I lay my demons to rest for the time being.
I wake up to the sound of bleeping. Searching around for an alarm clock, it takes me a little while to realise that the sound is coming from the iPhone. Alain has set me a twenty-minute warning for this evening’s activity. How thoughtful of him.
Swearing, I prop myself up on the bed and then hiss. My ass is now officially on fire. It needs to be iced, but I don’t have time for that. Eyeing the workout clothes warily, I wonder if I have the strength needed to put them on. Where are my big girl pants when I need them? Fuck you, Alain, I mouth to myself, closing my eyes for a brief second of weakness. When I open them again, I am all business. There is a cold hard rod of steel that is holding up my backbone, and I don’t let myself make a noise as I pull the pale pink Lycra shorts up and over my legs. There is a bulge in each leg where the bandages circle my thighs, and it’s not a good look, but I don’t give a shit. Thankfully, the matching bra is less problematic, and I manage to get that on with a good degree less sweating. It has a hard, plastic band around the centre of it, which means I’m also wearing a heart rate monitor. Alain is taking our training very seriously, by the looks of it. The socks and trainers aren’t anywhere near as much fun, but if I squat on the floor, I can complete all my tasks without swearing. When I stand up again, I am already breathing hard. This is nuts.
You need to get a grip. Placing a hair tie at the back of my head, I secure my locks in a neat little pony tail to keep it out of my face. Alain really does think of everything. When I’ve finished getting dressed, I have five minutes to spare. Now what? As if the iPhone reads my mind, directions pop up on the screen, enabling me to locate the in-house gym. Groaning, I pour myself another glass of water and get ready for some more torture. I suspect this round will be no less painful than the last, I’ll just get to suffer in different ways.
The walk to the gym is unpleasant. Each stride of my legs stretches angry red welts and scabs that do not want to be moved. It will only get worse. That’s the least of my worries. In a moment, I’m about to set eyes on James. The thought makes my pulse race even harder than it is already, and a dull throb settles at my core. I could really do without this right now.
Pushing the door to the gym open wide, I find I’m the last to the party. James is already standing on a treadmill, with Alain next to him, and he looks pale and tired. I suspect I don’t look much better.
“Lois, so nice of you to join us. You can add five minutes to your run total for tardiness.” Alain looks at me and dares me to argue. I don’t give him the satisfaction. He then smiles and indicates the treadmill next to James. “Hop on up. You can start doing your stretches while I explain the rules of engagement.”
I do as I’m told. Jumping up to the rubber mat, I begin by stretching my calf muscles. James is doing his quads. We don’t look at each other. It’s probably for the best.
“So, I was just explaining to James that you both have to run ten miles. The one who completes it in the fastest time is off the hook when they’ve finished. The one who is slowest gets to run an additional five miles. Everyone understand the game?” Alain sounds chipper, as well he might. There is no way I’ll win this challenge. It’s designed to favour James in every way that matters. I’ll be on my knees by the end of this, and even that’s being overly optimistic. There’s a good chance I’ll pass out before I get half-way. I wonder if Alain has an extra special punishment lined up just in case that happens.
We both nod our heads. Normally, ten miles would be a walk in the park for me. At my fittest, I can easily run marathons. Before this assignment began, I was regularly running twelve to fifteen miles, several times a week. Now that I’ve had some time off, that will have shrunk. Ten miles after at least a week’s worth of inactivity will hurt me, and that’s without all the other crap I have going on.
“Begin.” Alain taps his hand on James’s treadmill and both of them suddenly spring to life with flashing red lights and beeping noises. The warm-up begins. My legs are stiff, but they soon acclimatise to the slow pace. I can just about cope with this, which is something. Looking surreptitiously across to James, I study him quietly. He is dressed in a miler Nike top, with a pair of matching shorts and trainers. He’s lost a fair bit of weight in the week Alain hasn’t fed him, but he’s beginning to look a little better today. In a few days’ time he’ll almost be back to his old self, providing they continue to feed him.
His face shows a different story, however. It is rigid and set in hard lines. There’s a tension running through him that wasn’t there before, and that’s directly because of me. He’s acutely aware of me in every way that matters, and he can’t wait to get away. At least one of us is sensible.
After two minutes, the slow warm-up notches up a gear, and we are jogging at a pace of around ten minutes per mile. My legs are already heavy, and they feel like lead. At the moment, putting one foot in front of the other is a challenge, so this kind of co-ordination is particularly hard. Focusing on my gait, I try to get some kind of rhythm going. As long as I keep up with the belt beneath me, all will be well.
When the treadmill switches up another notch, to a more modest running pace, I begin to struggle. This is bad news. I haven’t even run a mile yet. I can see from the monitor that my heart rate is already elevated, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Once you’re running at a pace of eight minutes a mile, the increases will stop, and you can control your own pace. Just remember what I said. The loser gets to run an extra five miles before they can finish for the night. Have fun boys and girls.”
Alain pauses at my treadmill, on his way out, and looks up at me. “Did you have a fun session today? I heard my brother was a little hard on you.” His eyes betray any concern his voice might hold. He looks most entertained at my predicament, and I don’t think I have ever hated a man more. “One more thing before I go, Lois. If you fail to complete the necessary miles, you can present yourself at my bedroom door at ten pm. If you can’t do as you’re told, you’ll obviously need to be punished.” The look Alain gives me, before he slowly waltzes out of the door, chills my blood. If there’s one thing I can’t deal with today, it’s that man. The thought of sleeping with him makes me physically sick, and I know he’ll make Adie’s actions seem like child’s play. If I am left in a room with him, naked and at his mercy, there’s a good chance I’ll never recover. I’m fraying at the seams as it is. I’m going to have to run fifteen miles no matter how much pain that entails.
The treadmill then jolts beneath me, and I’m treated to another increase in speed. I feel my lungs protest at the new pace, but I do my best to ignore them.
James is still silent next to me. He’s coping with the pace much better than I am, and he hasn’t even broken into a sweat yet. I find this incredible to believe because he’s had a rough week, too, but being starved doesn’t seem to have affected his performance overly much. I hate to think how fit he must have been before he came here.
The treadmill splutters into life again, increasing its tempo. My breathing is laboured no
w. I’m a mile down and have nine to go. My legs are making all sorts of protests underneath the flimsy bandages I wear, but I ignore them. Instead, I take in the room around me. There is lots of shiny cardiovascular training equipment in here, from cross-trainers to recumbent bikes. Ab trainers, kettle bells and weights are dotted around the room at regular intervals, and there’s plenty more besides. It even features a water cooler and a stack of towels. I’m not sure if this is Alain’s personal gym, or one his men use, but it’s well-maintained.
Two miles come and go without fanfare. I am keeping up with the speed, but just barely. When the next increment comes along, I begin to suffer. James is still looking reasonably comfortable, although he’s finally broken into a sweat. He still won’t look at me, so I give up trying to make eye contact. I want to know how he’s coping, but after what I’ve done, I’m the last person he’ll confide in. It’s for the best. I know that.
The next burst of speed the treadmill spurts out is my undoing. After barely thirty seconds I can feel one of the scabs upon my left leg burst, and it’s a mess from there on in. Pain shoots through my thighs from all directions and I gasp out loud.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss, without thinking.
That has James’s attention. For the first time since I’ve entered the room, he looks at me, though I don’t look back. I don’t want his eyes on me. The last thing I need is for him to gloat over my predicament like everyone else. That will be the straw that breaks every single bone in the camel’s body, including his back.
“What did Adie do to you?” His voice is soft and controlled. It has that mesmerising quality that I adore. If Adie wants to question me in future, he should just get James to do it - he wouldn’t even need drugs.
“It doesn’t matter.” My legs then belie that sentence by stumbling over one another as I cry out. Straightening myself out, I put my hands on either side of the bars and steady myself. That was close. Memo to me - concentrate.
“What did he do?” James’s eyes are still on me, and I can feel his stare travel down my body. He’s inspecting me for damage. He won’t find anything just yet, but it won’t be long before there’s blood everywhere. I need to divert his attention away from me.
“Are you okay?” I fully expect him to take that the wrong way, and he does. A little anger will make sure James’s eyes aren’t anywhere near me.
James shakes his head and growls. “After what you did? I don’t think so, Lois. I don’t think we’ll ever be friends again.” He taps the ‘increase speed’ button and switches his gaze back to front. He’s running on anger and adrenaline. I wish I could do the same. James will win this little competition hands down.
We don’t say anything for a while. I can’t actually speak, anyway, but James is lost in his own little world. While his speedometer goes up and up, mine stays where it is. There is no way I can run any faster. It’s all I can do to stay at this pace. Somehow, I make it to the five-mile marker, but that’s when the shit hits the fan. When the first welt opens up on my left thigh, I smother a curse in my throat, but I can’t hide the fact that my left leg buckles. Steadying myself once again, I look forward and hope James ignores me. When I risk a glance down to inspect my legs, I find my pink shorts are now tinged with blood. I’ve reopened my wounds, and it’s not going to be pretty down there later.
“What did he do?” James is looking at me once again, and his eyes are travelling up and down my body. I don’t look at him, and I don’t answer. It’s all I can do to drag air into my lungs. The friction of the shorts against my welts is so painful, I can barely breathe, and I have no idea how I will get through this. My body is a fucking mess.
At mile six, it’s all over. I stumble again as a welt bursts on my right leg, and I can feel a trickle of blood dribble down my leg. I would scream, but I have no energy for that. I have another nine miles to get through before this is over, and I’m in agony already.
“He caned you, didn’t he?” James’s eyes haven’t left me, and as per usual, he sees too much.
“Yes, he caned me,” I blurt out. “Want to gloat? Feel free to tell me I’m a thoroughly despicable human being that deserves everything she gets.” If James rips into me, I will go to pieces. My grip on everything around me is tenuous at best. It is all I can do to put one foot in front of the other, and that is getting harder with each passing step.
James slows his treadmill down as far as it will go, back to our original starting pace. I figure he needs a breather.
“Why did you do it? I still can’t figure that one out. No amount of money is worth risking your life for.” His brows are furrowed as he tries to search my face for answers, but there’s nothing on me that can be read except pain.
“You’d happily die for free, if someone offered to put you out of your misery,” I grunt. “We’re both still in that hell. It’s different, but we share it.”
“Please tell me Alain isn’t going to kill you after this. If that’s what you’re bartering for, you’re crazy. He means to drag it out with as much pain as possible. There are easier ways to die.” James sounds as if he can’t believe what he’s saying, which is rich, considering he can’t wait to leave this earth.
“That means you’re crazy, too, asshole. Now let me stumble around in peace because I don’t have the energy left to speak to you.” The last word is mostly air and no volume. Speech is beyond me. My shorts now feel unpleasantly wet, and I know that by the end of this run I will look like the walking dead. The trek back to my room is going to traumatise me, I know that much.
“Why? Just tell me why, Lois.” James is watching the stain of blood on my thigh grow with each passing stride. I can’t look at it. It’ll freak me out. “If you tell me why, I’ll shut up.”
What is it with James and Adie? Why can’t they just give up and leave me alone? That’s all I want. A bit of solitude and misery never killed anyone.
“Because I’m a thoroughly sick and twisted individual,” I snap. “Now if we’ve finished with the chitchat, please go back to racing your way towards the finish line. I’m not going to trouble you on that score.”
James snorts. “There’s no way you’re running fifteen miles. You’re on your knees now.” He’s wrong and I tell him so.
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart, because there’s no way I’m climbing into bed with Alain just yet, even if I have to crawl the last five miles.” I mean it, too. While I’ve already figured out that at some point Alain and I will be getting into bed together, I intend to put that off for as long as possible. Being anywhere near Alain will leave scars, and I want to limit the damage as much as possible. While I might have sold my soul, I didn’t figure that my body would be part of the bargain.
“You’re only putting off the inevitable, Lois. Now that Alain has his sights set on you, you will end up in his bed. Surely you realised that when you signed up?”
Stumbling again, I don’t answer him. Wet stickiness is now creeping down both my legs and my mind is numb to everything around me. Seven miles come and go, and I’m not even half-way. I want to scream at the unfairness of my life, but I don’t have the energy. Instead, I grit my teeth and keep moving forward, even though every instinct I have screams otherwise. James interrupts my thoughts.
“Notch up your speed, Lois. If you want to beat me, you’ll need to run the rest of your three miles considerably faster. You’ll have to push yourself, but you can do it. I’ll keep where I am.” James reaches over and pushes up my speed arrow a couple of notches.
Tears blur my face, but I push them back. Kindness was not something I’d expected. I’m the bad guy here, after all.
“No. I do not need looking after,” I choke out. This is my mess and I’ll clean it up - somehow.
James shakes his head. “You won’t make fifteen miles, Lois. Take my word for it. So, ask yourself this: do you want to sleep with Alain? If you do, that’s fine, but I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. He will mess with your head, Lois. If you thin
k you’re in a bad place now, you haven’t seen anything yet. Still, it’s your funeral. I’ll only make the offer once.” Turning his head away from me, he went back to staring at the wall in front of him, but he didn’t increase his speed. I needed to make a decision quickly, and in reality, there was only one sensible option. The thought of sleeping with Alain turned my insides to acid, and I was in no fit state to face him. The thought of a man between my legs at the moment was eye-watering.
Turning back to James, I whispered, “Help me,” even though I had no right to ask such a thing.
James sighs, but turns up the speed on my control panel again. I’ve now passed the eight-mile mark. The current speed is already more than I can handle, but at least this way I’ll only have two more miles of torture to contend with. Poor James now has another five added to his tally.
I keep with the pace for half a mile before my legs bottom out from under me yet again. My whole body now feels like jelly and I have no idea how I’m going to run the last mile or so. James had been right. There was no way I’d have managed the extra five.
“I can’t do this,” I wail, when the friction on my legs doles out more pain than I can handle.
“Yes, you can.” James sounds firm in his conviction. I’m glad someone’s got some confidence in me because mine flew out of the window a while ago. “Just imagine Alain is chasing you, trying to get you into his bed. You need to get away from him. He’s got a riding crop in his hand, and you know he’s going to bleed you dry. You can’t imagine that kind of agony. You need to run as fast as you can to make sure that doesn’t become a reality because that’s exactly what he’ll do, Lois. I’ve seen him work.” Twisting my head towards James, I see his sombre expression. He isn’t kidding. Alain is exactly the kind of monster I think he is, and if I’m not careful, I will end up being his new fuck-toy.
My body gets a new lease of life as a spike of adrenaline flows through me. The picture James has just painted isn’t a pleasant one, and I need to avoid it at all costs. I can’t go through with that today. Jabbing the little upwards arrow, I increase my pace to as much as I can handle.
Fire (A Special Agent Novel Book 4) Page 19
