Page 83 of Marked

I quickly move into position, just as Jimmy Blackwood sits down on the lounger across from Zack. He’s cleaned up now, with a drink in his hand.

His gaze turns my stomach, but I can’t even look up at him to show him how much he disgusts me.

“She won’t look at you,” Zack says, leaning back in his chair and hooking his foot on his knee. “She’s too well trained.”

“Hmm.” The ice in Jimmy’s glass clinks. “I like the trained ones best. I get to break them down and start all over again. It’s twice the fun.”

I swallow down the bile rising up in my throat.

“I noticed how you have your fun.” Zack reaches to me, stroking my hair. Petting me like I’m some dog.

But it works.

My stomach stops clenching and I’m able to concentrate on his touch instead of on the horrifying sounds of woman crying around me.

“Saw that, huh? Too bad Chad ruined it. But three-and-a-half million will buy me three more girls.” His glass hits the table between them. “Smart to have your own girl, better than renting from the shop.”

“My girl here? Yes.” Zack drops his hand from my head.

“Jimmy, sorry to bug you, but we got a guy who’s demanding to see you.” Their conversation is interrupted by a man in black boots.

I clench my teeth. I need to look up so I can see who’s talking.

I hide my fisted hands in my lap.

“Who is it?”

“DeMarco. Says he has the money to pay back the loan, so he doesn’t want to go through with the sale.”

“DeMarco?” There’s a pause. “Too late. That girl was picked up two days ago. Vince had a buyer right away. She’s gone.”

More bile raises.

“Shit. Okay.”

The boots are gone.

“Too bad for him, huh?” Zack says.

Jimmy hesitates a moment then laughs.

“Yeah.” His ice clinks against the side of his glass. “Are you waiting on a platform?” he questions, and my back tightens.

“I am.” Zack makes a fist in my hair, giving just enough burn that I can fall back into his voice and tune out Jimmy.

“They’ll be scrubbing mine down for a while. That bitch bled like a stuck pig when I cut her face.” He’s laughing. How can a monster like him be allowed to breathe right now? Why aren’t we cutting off his face?

My eyes settle on Zack’s black bag. A variety of knives are inside, mingled among the toys.

“I saw.” Zack twists my hair, and I groan. It takes my focus away from Jimmy, but the injustice of him being allowed to sit here and enjoy a drink while that poor girl is hurting, while Quinn is buried six feet under the ground, while I’m sitting here listening to him, is almost too much.

Pain ridden screams from the platforms behind us make my stomach quake. I can’t just kneel here and listen to this. Every one of these fucking men need to burn.

“Please! Jimmy!” A man in a polo shirt and torn jeans rushes to Jimmy’s side just as I move to get up from my space.

“Stay.” Zack’s fingers snap in front of my face. I freeze, but the anger boils just below the surface. It’s going to spill out soon.

“Eyes.” When I move them, he pats my head. “Trust,” he mouths, and the heat comes down to a simmer. Trust him. And I do. More than I hate them.

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