Page 107 of Fire for Effect

“Where is he?” He yelled right up into my face so loud that it blew the hair from my brow.

“Who?”

He didn’t bother asking, but instead punched my now broken nose. He hit me once. Then twice.

By the third hit, I was laughing.

He hit me again and I laughed even harder.

“You like that baby? Is this how you get your rocks off?” His voice dripped with hate and derision. “It fucking figures.”

His smirk was sadistic. An obvious insult, and insinuation that I liked what he had done to me all those years.

My face throbbed in pain. I hoped that when I smiled, my teeth were covered in red blood.

“I like my men the way I like my coffee,” I said, spitting on the ground. “Flying off the roof of my car as I drive away.”

Heath’s menacing chuckle sent goosebumps crawling over my skin. A chuckle that gave me a feeling like the coming of doom. A past nightmare coming back, right when you had thought they were gone for good.

“She’s funny, isn’t she, guys?” Heath laughed, even though his expression was tight.

He was trying to save his image in front of the guys.

My swollen eye barely opened as I gazed up at the face of my own personal sadist. The villain of my tale.

I looked back to the guys on the screen.

“Mr. Carlin,” the CIA director said, as he looked through the camera, at me, visibly distraught. “You already know Joaquin Guerro’s name. What more do you want from us?”

Kai’s dad was playing stupid. It was a time old technique to delay what was going to happen - me, getting beaten, or shot to death. I appreciated the technique.

“What’s his cover name? We all know he’s not running around using his real name. Where is he embedded?” Heath was visibly losing patience, knowing that the Director’s play at ignorance was a direct insult to him and his limited intelligence.

“Mr. Carlin, if you just wait…” Director Griffith went on, but I was back in Heath’s sights. He was focused right on me again.

“Did you miss me, baby?” he said, leaning into me until we were practically nose to nose. “I’ve missed you.”

He ran a gentle finger down the side of my face. But even that was a threat.

“Who knew I had such a precious little bitch in my bed. I woulda tied you up and never let you whore yourself to that little prick on your team. What’s his name?” My blood ran cold. “That’s right. Kai Griffith. Is that right, Director?” He turned back to the screen where Kai’s father stared with an impassive expression. “She’s boning your son, isn’t she? You think my wife finger fuck’s his asshole?”

“Don’t get jealous, baby,” I interrupted, because he had no right to talk about Kai. He could call me a whore all he wanted, but to talk about my guy was off the fucking table. “I have great memories of you being a bottom. If you want I can peg you--”

His retribution was swift, and angry as he slapped me with the pistol again. He kicked my chair over, and I fell backwards, landing on my arms as I crashed, my head slamming on the concrete floor.

I swallowed, then thought better of it as blood filled my mouth again. I held it on my tongue and said nothing.

With his leather boot, he kicked my arm where he had broken it seven years ago. It was intentional. Like he’d catalogued the injuries he’d given me and wanted to make me relive every single one.

Mutual abuse? Yeah-fucking-right!

I had never noticed it before, but his blue eyes were devoid of anything but pleasure. Pleasure in my pain. A fucking sadist.

But I had hurt his ego in front of his little biker friends. And that gave me pleasure as well, despite the throbbing ache all over my body.

He picked up the chair and righted it, the legs slamming on the ground, sending my head into another whiplash.

He leaned down in front of me so we were eye to eye. “You ready to behave, sweetheart?”

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