Page 110 of Exposed

“Doing what we should’ve done the first time we met. Without Goldie around, I can finally conduct business the way I usually do.” Dex explains.

Light filters through the sack as someone empties my pockets.

“Keys and wallet. A wad of cash and a DL from New York. Not even a fucking credit card.”

Someone else pats me down from my waist to my ankles before material rips. My dress shirt.

I feel cold air on my bare chest when I’m thrown into a chair. My bound arms are wrenched at an unholy angle and pinned between me and the cold metal.

“Nothing?” Dex asks.

Duct tape hits my chest.

That’s going to suck later.

I’m bound to the chair and wonder what the hell they could do to me next.

Finding my way out of here in one piece, Goldie and the Caribbean are the only things on my mind.

Until a fist connects with my jaw.

Fucking-A.

I bite back a groan.

The taste of copper hits my tongue as my mouth fills with blood and saliva.

My hair is fisted through the bag, and my head is yanked back. “That’s for the throat punch, fuckwad. Do not forget who you’re fucking dealing with. I don’t give a shit that you’re banging that cunt. I will put you in your place every day of the week, asshole.”

I can’t help it.

I thrash and fight the bindings even though I know there are only two ways out of here.

They either believe I am who I pretend to be, or…

Caribbean.

And I am not giving up if I don’t have to. It’s going to have to get a hell of a lot worse than this.

Dex needs to think he has the upper hand, but the U.S Army trained me, and I’ll take Uncle Sam’s elite training over street thugs. Even ones from Miami.

A shadow comes at me and I rear my head back trying to ready myself.

Dammit.

Again.

And again.

There’s nothing I can do.

Again.

My face.

But it’s the shots to the head that worry me more.

It’s like he’s daring me to beg him to stop.

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