Page 106 of Fire for Effect

If they weren’t total emotionless psychopaths, it could all be summarized in a single thing: Limp Dick Syndrome.

The kind of man who hit his wife was an insecure, petty, pathetic human being, whose only means of control wasn’t from giving value, but from causing harm.

Pa-the-tic.

“And before you ask,” I said, remembering to keep my words slow. Every minute counted. Every second I delayed my rapidly approaching execution, was a minute I upped my chances of being saved. “Yeah, their dicks were better, and bigger than yours.”

“You fucking whore!” His teeth ground together, and I hoped he cracked them under the pressure.

“And it felt so good! Much better than yours–”

He lunged at me, striking me square in the middle of my forehead, throwing my head back in a whiplash that sprained my neck. Fuck…

There was no additional blood, though, so that must have meant that my hard head didn’t take on as much damage as I thought.

I blinked, trying to see through my one remaining eye, and saw his fist was red. I didn’t know if that was from smooshed blood, or if it was because they were swollen. I hoped he hurt those pretty little fists of his.

“Tell us where Joaquin Guerro is.” Heath looked at the camera, grabbing the hair at the crown of my head, forcing me to look the President dead on. “Or you’ll watch me beat his daughter to death.”

I laughed. My dry lips cracked, as more blood slipped down my chin.

“That’s gonna take a while…” I giggled. “You used to take forever to cut firewood. I don’t think you know how much effort it takes to actually beat someone to death—”

Smash! Another blow to the head.

I was going to have the mother of all concussions.

“Jesus, don’t tell anyone we were married. People will think I taught you how to hit,” I said through a bloody smile. “That’ll just ruin my rep.”

Smash!

My head fell to the side with that strike, my hand straining against the binds. I ground my teeth, and took in a deep breath, and forced another smile.

“You’ve gotten so sensitive!” I said, spitting saliva that had pooled in my mouth. “Take a pill, dude.”

I was pissing him off, and I wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was the best move.

But years of resentment bubbled to the surface, and I had no intention of letting him believe that he was anything but the frail, soft-footed wash out that he was!

“Mr. Carlin!” It took a second to figure out that the President, and Roland Griffith, had been calling his name, telling him to stop his little tantrum.

Roland Griffith would be my future father-in-law, and grandpa to our kids… assuming I lived long enough. Was he in communication with his son? Did he know about me?

Kai must be so worried right now.

“Tell us where her father is!” Heath demanded. “What name is he going under? What’s his cover?”

“I know where he is,” I said calmly, blinking up at the ceiling for a moment.

There was silence in the room. Nothing but the static from the video conference.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Precious, precious minutes, as I zoned out, counting the spots on the ceiling.

“Well?” Heath finally asked.

I snapped back as if I was startled. “Well, what?”

This is what weaponized incompetence looks like, ladies and gentlemen.

---