He’s fucking insane!
The first strike landed on one breast, the second came immediately after on the other one. My body planked as if it had been electrocuted. He hit me with what I thought was his full strength. It felt like the leather ripped me open with a fiery lance, burning deep into my flesh. I kept my mouth clamped shut as the screams tore from my lungs. Over and over his hand lifted and fell tearing the leather strap across my body. I was nothing but an inferno of excruciating agony.
“Turn her over,” I heard his command through the blaze of pain.
His men jerked me up and flung me onto my stomach. I was too weak to fight, and in too much pain to notice the whimpers and sounds that seeped from within me. I don’t know if it was sweat or blood that made me slide over the wooden surface of the desk. But I wasn’t too incoherent to feel a hand land on my ass as he gathered the wetness from my skin with the other and prod my asshole with it. I thrashed and fought against the hold they had on me. The only thing it got me was sick laughter.
“I’ll be nice and get you ready before I fuck you here,” I heard him say almost pleasantly.
“NOOOOO,” I screamed with my back bowed and my head thrown back.
My face made contact with the hard surface beneath it with a sickening, bone smashing thud.
“You’re mine, I can do whatever the fuck I want with you,” he sneered with amusement. “This little lesson is showing you that.” With that, he shoved the hilt of the knife into my virgin ass.
It was beyond hurt; I can’t even describe it. It would have been the same if he’d shoved the sharp end in and carved out my entire insides. RIP went the tight ring of muscles in my back entrance. In and out, over and over and over, each time I felt myself shredding.
“I think you’re ready for me, Jo,” I heard his words as I teetered on the edge of blackness. “I’m going to need a little lubricant, wouldn’t want to go in dry.”
I was beyond responding, I felt like I was at the bottom of the ocean, drowning and hoping to die.
Then there was pressure on my shoulder followed by stinging and burning, but it was nothing compared to what my rectum had just been subjected to. I think Frank petted the area on my shoulder gently and tenderly, and somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I believe he mumbled, “Mine.”
There was a fleeting moment of reprieve when my ass was empty right before it was filled again.
“I knew you’d feel so fucking good,” the distant sound of his voice entered the fog of my pain induced delirium.
I couldn’t lift my face from where it had been smashed against the desk, and my insides felt like they were ablaze.
I knew Frank was fucking my ass from the pounding of my body against the furniture, his hands gripping my hips, and the constant aching burn of each of his thrusts. I thought I felt tears sliding over the swollen bridge of my nose, but I didn’t care. Each time he shoved himself inside me, my mind volleyed between screaming to die and begging for happy thoughts.
When he pulled me tight against him and I heard him grunt, a sliver of relief cut through my thoughts. Then he was gone. My arms and legs were freed.
“What do you want us to do with her?” one of the bastards asked.
“Leave her here,” I heard Frank’s bark. “Let her think about her place.”
A flicker of anger glowed for a moment inside me. They were discussing me as if I weren’t here and what just happened wasn’t the most heinous and vile acts a man could do to a woman. For all I knew they were leaving me here to rot and die. I could only hope.
My breathing was shallow and labored, I had no clue how long I’d been splayed out on the desk, it could have been seconds or hours, time had lost all significance. When a hand landed softly on the area of my shoulder that burned, my body stiffened. It was followed by a feather light touch, like a gentle kiss, it made me choke out a sob and my body shudder. Then Frank’s mouth was close to mine, his lips covered in blood, probably mine.
“I’ll see you soon, Jo. You were perfect, as perfect as I’d imagined you’d be,” then he pressed his lips against my forehead, the only time his mouth touched me.
That might have been the obscenest touch he’d given me of everything he’d done.
The last coherent thought I recall before I allowed the blackness to envelope me was the sound of the three of them leaving. When I woke, I have no idea how much later, I crawled from the office/dressing room, the sun was blazing into the bar through the windows. I dragged my battered body up the stairs and into my apartment. Each step was agony, but I wasn’t going to stop. The first thing I did was vomit until my body heaved with nothing left to give. Then I scalded myself in a burning hot shower. Every inch of me screamed from the abuse, the welts and lacerations that covered my front weeping in agony. But it was the carving Frank had left on my shoulder blade that cut me straight to the core.
Ripping the shower curtain to the side, I found strength I didn’t know was still left inside me, I went to stand in front of the mirror. When I turned to the side, I saw FC in raw open flesh carved onto my shoulder.
The motherfucker branded me!
Rage I couldn’t imagine unfurled from within me, merging with the pain, until what was left was a monster and the only thing it wanted was Frank dead. Horribly and gruesomely. That branding was going to be the fuel and the constant reminder of my hate for him.
It wasn’t enough to watch Hawk like he’d always been a part of them, coming and going like he’d always belonged with them. Then as he ran a finger down Daisy’s chest. Each act, every word he spoke, every look, move, and step was another twist of the knife in my gut.
He and Bo decided to hang around for a while. They sat at the bar and drank an entire bottle of the most expensive tequila. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it didn’t matter. They were partners, brothers, it was all of them against me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. No matter what had happened in that stock room. I was nothing to him. He didn’t care about what I was to Frank; it was all bullshit. He had a job to do, and I’m part of that job, and my bar. Something for them to take, and use, and abuse whenever they wanted.
I ignored them, at least I tried to, but I could feel him like a livewire connected us. I felt his gaze stroke my skin as if it was his fingers against my flesh, his warm breath against my lips, his thickness inside of me. And no matter what was in my hand, it was him I felt. It meant nothing to Hawk. I refused to look at him, I couldn’t bear to see the look I’m sure was in his eyes, the disdain, the disregard, the hard look in those eyes that had torn me open.
As I went through the motions of doing what I normally do to close up, it seemed Bo was doing most of the talking and Hawk was doing most of the pouring.
“We need music!” Bo shouted like a stupid frat boy.
I wanted to shove the bottle of tequila down his throat.
“Give me that,” I heard Hawk snap at him. A moment later, the soothing sounds of piano from the speakers behind the bar filled the air.
I froze.
I can still shut down the party. The lyrics began.
I didn’t move as my heart pounded harder.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I heard Bo talking and laughing, but that’s not what I heard. The words from the song, the song Hawk played, that’s all I heard.
I can hang with anybody.
I can drink whiskey and red wine, champagne all night, scotch on the rocks, I’m fine…
My mind swirled so fast; I had to grip the chair in front of me. NO, it’s nothing!
When I taste tequila, baby, I still see ya…
I felt him. All over me. Saw him. Smelt him. Tasted him. I scrunched my eyes shut and resisted the urge to look at him. I couldn’t see it, the look of amusement that must be on his face.
Swearing on a Bible, baby, I’d never leave ya. I remember how bad I need ya…
He played this song to taunt me. Instead, I moved as fast as my legs could take me to t
he back room. I took a few minutes to compose myself. I wanted to punch myself in the face because I was half hoping he’d come to find me. That he did care. It didn’t matter. I was not going to let him see how he’d gotten to me without even a word. When I went back out, they were gone.
Tonight, and all of its shitstorms, had sent me to the edge. I couldn’t deal with any more surprises, so I until the morning. After seeing Niles’ battered face, God only knows what the rest of him looked like, Daisy, and those two hanging around, I was done. I did what I absolutely had to do, then shut everything down and decided I was going to lock myself in my apartment. Me and my shotgun. Hawk had disappeared without a single word to me all night long, then that stupid song. He was probably with Daisy, and she more than likely had him half way down her throat right about now.
Fine. I don’t need the aggravation anyway. She can have all the bullshit he brings with him.
I certainly don’t need to give Frank a reason to come and pay me a visit. The ripple of fear that slithered through my body that thought had brought with it was purely a conditioned response to the lesson he’d taught me. One that dragged anger by the hand right along with it. That and the head games I put myself through.
Everything was quiet when I got to the top of the stairs and unlocked my door. I was exhausted, but it was emotional and psychological exhaustion, and all I wanted to do was soak in a hot bath and forget everything. Stepping inside the small living room, I turned around to set the dead bolt when a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm locked around me.
CHAPTER 14
Hawk
“Don’t scream,” I whisper roughly at her ear.
A moot thing to say because she’s screaming like a banshee against my palm. Jo’s tough as hell, and one bad ass fighter. I had to dodge a head butt and practically crack her ribs to keep her still. She’s wild with panic, a reaction more than a surprise visit in the dark should elicit.
She’s acting like she’s fighting for her life.
Jesus Christ, what happened to you, Jo? What the fuck did that bastard do to you?
There’s no denying every one of my kill switches are flipped to Red Alert. I force myself to remain calm and relaxed, I don’t want to send Jo over the edge.
I know Castillo has done something terrible. Jo’s warning that he would hurt me if he knew about what happened with us supported it. That made me want to laugh. Additionally, Bo said she was off limits. That pissed me off. Finally, Castillo the scumbag had looked at her like he wanted to skin her alive and eat her flesh. That hit a whole other level of my crazy.
I’m looking forward to the day I mutilate him before I let him die. Not only for Jo, although she’s the final nail in his coffin, but because the guy’s the worst kind of bad I’ve seen, and I’ve had the pleasure of eliminating some of the vilest animals ever to live.
Jo’s a madwoman in my grip, insane with fear that’s feeding her adrenaline. I’m sure she’d blow my head off before clarity set in. Or maybe she’d put a bullet in me anyway for being a dick. I couldn’t blame her if she did.
“Jo, it’s me. Stop fighting,” I whisper hoarsely at her ear.
She freezes in my hold, her eyes wide with terror as they dart to my face. She’s pissed, really pissed, but she never lets go of her shotgun. Then her foot comes down on mine. Hard.
I deserve that.
“Goddamn it,” I hiss, not yet releasing her. “Are you finished?” I ask with my hand still covering her mouth. With her eyes fixed on mine, she shakes her head no and slams her heel into my shin. “Son of a bitch,” I grit out. “Now?” She nods hesitantly. “Good.” Slowly I lift my hand from her mouth, our eyes locked, each of us waiting to see what the other is going to do. The fear still hasn’t left her eyes; it sends another shot of my crazy juice through me. I don’t let her see it, she doesn’t need anything else traumatizing her. Seems I’ve done a good enough job of that already. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I whisper again, giving her time to come down from the rush of terror.
What the hell was I thinking coming here? In the middle of the night? Hiding in her apartment?
Protecting her. But I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t half thinking with my dick.
Not that hiding is unusual behavior for me. The kicker is this whole situation with Jo is far from my usual modus operandi. I don’t do this shit. I do my job, I go in, take care of the operative, and get the fuck out. No distractions, no complications, no save the girl bullshit.
As a soldier of The Program, people are one of either two things: a victim, or a tool. Sometimes they’re both. However, the worst thing that could happen is when someone close to you is used to get to you. They are the ultimate bargaining chip, and the one that would suffer the worst. That is a price too high to pay.
Revenge is a savage bitch.
Somewhere along the way, maybe the morning I woke up and my dick seemed to belong to her and my head was lodged up her ass, there was no way I’d allow Jo to be a victim.
No one is ever going to be a victim again because of me.
That is the one single thing that, for the first time, could very likely get me killed.
But I’m here – with her – to use her for information. I’m no saint, my resume’ reads like a dictionary of all the ways to torture someone, but the first night I saw Jo, and the way she fought for her dignity against Bo, it woke up some latent feeling inside me. I wanted to protect her, knowing full well it could blow my position here straight to hell. She intrigued me with her strength and take no shit attitude. Her part in this situation is a complex web of what-the-fuck. But when her mask fell away and the depth of her vulnerability was revealed, it punched me in the chest with a sledgehammer.
She’s the one thing off limits, but on this assignment, she’s the only reason worth killing for.
That doesn’t change the fact I need her for information only she can give me.
That might make me a complete dick for using her. But it gets me hard thinking of all the filthy ways I want to use her.
“Did you like the song?” I ask, smirking at her like the dick I am. She narrows her eyes at me, angry and every bit the broad with the balls of steel. There’s my girl. I ignore the realization my inner dumbass referred to her as his.
“What the hell are you doing here!” she whisper shouts at me.
I can’t help but grin at her. “I thought it was obvious, doll. Waiting for you.” I lower my hand and loosen my hold around her.
“Are you insane?!” she places her palms on my chest and shoves. I don’t budge. She pushes me again, harder. Still nothing. Her eyes bounce up to meet mine and the corner of my mouth kicks up in a smirk. “Would you please move?” she hisses at me.
“You’re not going to shoot me, are you? I’d hate to invite any visitors to our little soiree?” my smirk doesn’t fade.
This shit is too much fun.
“I’d love to,” she begins to squirm trying to get out of my hold. “But I’m not really in the mood to clean up the mess.”
I actually laugh. Jesus Christ, this woman, she makes me feel, and that is messing with me. I can’t remember the last time I felt good about anything. That’s the thing with killers, we’re dead inside. No emotion, no remorse, no connection inside that makes us think about right and wrong. I admit I’m a little rogue. I know The Program humors me at these times, I get away with shit no one could. There’s no leaving the life, we’ve been hired to do too much shit for too many important people. When we signed on, we sold our soul to the devil, and the only way out is with a one-way ticket to hell. However, if I think the mission is bullshit, I walk.
This mission is so far from bullshit; I’m drowning in it.
“Then why don’t we put your toy away for a while,” I slowly reach to take her gun from her. She jerks it away.
“I don’t think so, cowboy,” her eyes narrow at me as I raise my hands in surrender.
Don’t need that thing going off. They’d hear it in the next t
own, then the shit would really hit the fan.
“Tell you what,” I feed a hand to my back, “I’ll put mine down first,” I slide my Beretta from my waistband and hold it up. I need her to trust me, and the best way to do that is to give her something of value.
Jo’s eyes shoot open, bouncing from my eyes to my gun, then back. “Want to trade?” she asks with a gleam in her eye.
I tsk her. “Grown up toys for grown up people only, doll.” I shrug a chin at the ridiculous weapon she’s holding. “You ever fire that thing?”
She fakes shocked disbelief. “Of course I have. Lots of times.”
She sounds just like a kid. Damn if that’s not cute.
I smirk at her. “You’re lying. And that’s dangerous. If you’re going to have a weapon, you should know how to use it. I’ll take you out and show you,” I rub the sides of my jaw with a finger and thumb. “Tell you what, I’ll do you one better. I’ll get you a gun that’s much better suited for you.” I look her dead in the eye. “And better suited for what you need it for.”
I can see her defenses slam up with the jerk of her head. “You don’t know anything about me, or what I need.”
Don’t piss her off, Hawk. She’d kick you out so fast, your head would spin.
The fact she hasn’t yet is good. This thing between us, lust, respect, fury, whatever it is, is an animal all its own. There’s no denying it. She might think I’m a piece of shit because I’m working for Castillo, but she’s not walking away from me, and she’s not asking me to leave. It’s got her by the proverbial balls as well.
I turn and walk toward the couch, placing my gun on the coffee table before I make myself comfortable. “It’s not rocket science, Jo. People carry guns for protection against threats, known and presumed.” I lean back, snake my arms across the back of the couch, and rest my feet on the table. “That,” I motion to her, “is sloppy and inefficient. And is also obvious as hell. Have you ever heard of the element of surprise?”
“Best thing I could get,” she’s not going to try to give me a bullshit story. She’s real, and that is just one of the things that intrigues me about her. Her holding a gun is also hot as fuck.
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