Page 47 of Cross Point

She had a feeling that would be a really bad idea, but the scotch she’d consumed made her override her warning system. Giving in, she sat down cautiously, wondering what they were up to. Then, she jerked in surprise as both Jackson and Maxwell pulled out the attached straps on the armrests that she hadn’t seen.

“Have you two lost your fucking minds?” she asked softly, her voice a deadly whisper.

Both Jackson and Maxwell finished binding her to the chair and took a seat on the couch, facing her.

“No, but we’ve decided that we’re sick of you running off when we’re talking,” Jackson bit out angrily.

“You said we didn’t know you. So, we are going to talk. Here and now. This way you can’t leave if you don’t like what we have to say until this is done,” Maxwell said it so casually, had she been free she knew she would have slapped his handsome face.

She struggled against the straps, testing their strength, then stopped. She glanced around the room as she tried to get control of her rage, but it wasn’t working. This was the way they wanted to handle this? Like a fucking interrogation? The setup inside the room made her blood run cold as she finally realized what she’d been missing.

Her head whipped back so she could glare at Jackson. “This isn’t your bedroom.”

It was a statement, not a question.

He stilled. “Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s not. There are no personal items of any kind in here. Are you fucking kidding me? After what I told you today, you bring me into your fuck room in order to interrogate me?”

He cringed slightly at that, then narrowed his eyes at her. “I brought you in here because I knew I could make you stay put so we could finish a fucking conversation. I was going to blindfold your stubborn ass, too, but—”

“If you even try it, I promise you this will be the last time you ever see me.” She’d spoken in a voice so cold she wasn’t surprised when both men flinched. “This has got to be the most fucked-up thing any man has ever done who claims to be trying to have a relationship with me.”

“That’s just it,” Maxwell snapped. “We’re trying. This is so we can talk. If you need to tell us about yourself so we understand you better, then this is what we’re willing to do to make that happen. Trinity, we want you to tell us what you need—”

“What I need is to have my head examined for even considering having anything to do with either of you after you pull this shit. You want me to tell you about me? In here? Like this?”

Perhaps it was the liquid courage running through her system, or the advice that her friend had given her earlier that made her want to show them exactly why it was so dangerous to piss her off. Her breathing sped up despite her struggle to remain in control.

Fuck it, she was losing it fast.

They wanted the real her?

Then, she would give it to them.

“Want to know how my last mission went? I went undercover to help take down a pretty nasty human trafficking ring and had my hands tied behind my back before I was shoved into a cargo container with several other people who were just trying to buy their way to a new life. Then, imagine four men climbing into the back of the truck with you, and the only light is from one tiny little lamp that they’ve brought in so they can see what they’re doing. And what they’re trying to do is rape you and another young woman who is stuck in there with you.”

“My god…” Maxwell breathed out.

“Katrina—”

“No,” she barked out, aware that there were tears shimmering in her eyes now. She could see the regret on both of their faces, but she wasn’t backing down now.

She had things she had to say.

Things they needed to understand about her.

“You asked for it, so you’ll get it. I was able to grab the knife off of one of the men when he came for me and ended up slicing my own wrist trying to free my hands. I fought so damn hard, and when another came at me with a gun, I managed to take him out with just a graze instead of a bullet to my chest. I was finally able to free myself, but we broke the lamp in the process so it was pretty brutal and messy after that.”

She took a shuddering breath and forced herself to continue.

“I killed four men to save myself but was stuck there in the dark, bleeding from the wrist and stab wounds to my side until my team could come for me. That’s who I am. I’m not a woman who needs to be told what to do or will tolerate being fucking dictated to. I need control of myself and my actions. It’s not a preference for me. It’s survival. And this? Do you want to know what I really think of all this?”

Holding onto the arms of the chair, she shot to her feet and whirled around, slamming the chair against the bedpost. She was practically sobbing now, barely able to breathe, but pure rage was leading her actions now. She continued to slam the chair until the wood cracked into pieces and the bedpost snapped. Off balance, she fell to the ground.

Before she hit the floor, Jackson caught her to him, holding her tight. “Jesus Christ! I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He hurried to help Maxwell undo the straps still binding her arms to the slates of broken wood. Once she was free, she hauled her fist back and let it fly. Jackson’s head snapped back as her fist connected with his pretty face.

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