Page 21 of Cruel Devil

Jane scowls.

“Not an improvement. For fuck’s sake, at least beg for your life or something.”

I toss the knife on the table. It’s not exactly putting the fear of God into her, so what’s the point? She seemed more scared of the?—

Hmm…

Jane is scanning the room like I’m boring her, but at my smile, her attention snaps back to me. I stand, going back to the kitchen where I’d left my bullhide flogger. Her eyes track me as far as she can turn her head.

I’m grinning as I come back into her field of view.

“Ever used one of these before?”

The redhead shrinks away when I dangle the flogger in front of her. She can’t go very far, being all tied up and shit. There was enough rope that me and Savage could tie her arms to the chair too. As much as she pulls and yanks, she can’t get away.

I slap the supple leather strips against my palm, laughing at how wide her green eyes go.

“You know, this is a very versatile tool in the right hands.”

She tries to lean away when I drag the tips of the leather strips over her shoulder and down her arm, letting it catch on the fabric of her long-sleeved shirt.

Her fingers tighten over the edge of the armrests, knuckles turning nearly as white as her paling skin.

“Why were you at Doc’s house?”

Despite her obvious aversion to the sex toy, she’s not breaking. I’d be impressed, if I wasn’t so annoyed at how long this was taking.

I flick my wrist, catching her on the collarbone with the flogger, and break into a smile when she gasps. Not in pain—I’m still just teasing—but in surprise at the sneak attack.

“Come on, Jane. This could all be over. Just tell me what I need to know.”

“Go to hell.”

That earns her another sting along the collarbone. I drag the leather strips over one breast, then let them pool in her lap before gliding them over her thigh.

“These jeans look uncomfortable. Maybe I should take them off.”

She shifts her weight as much as the ropes allow, throwing me an uneasy look. “That’s…not necessary.”

I scoff. “You’d think, and yet, here we are. You refusing to talk, me having to make you.”

She gasps when I bring the flogger down full force over her thigh. It shouldn’t hurt that much through her jeans, but she keeps her eyes closed, her throat moving as she swallows. You’d swear I backhanded her.

I raise the flogger again, aiming for the other thigh, pausing at her breathless, panicky, “Okay! Okay.”

“Yeah?” I prompt when she just sits there, breathing hard.

“I’m not some hired gun,” she says quietly, her pale green eyes flickering briefly to mine before she looks away.

“So you knew him? What were you to him? Family? Friend? Lover?”

“What? No! I didn’t know him,” she cuts in fiercely, eyes narrowed to slits. “He was supposed to have a job for me.”

“Supposed to?”

She shrugs. “It could have been bullshit. I didn’t have a chance to find out, because when I got to his place, he was—“ She swallows. “Well, you know.”

“Slaughtered.” I sigh at the memory of how we found Dr. Gomez and his family. He was a good guy. I refuse to believe he was capable of doing anything to deserve such a cruel death. And whoever did it probably made him watch as they killed his wife and kids first.

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