Page 82 of Sick Bargain

“Yep.”

Gregory Malone ends up in the trunk of my SUV, bound, gagged, and bleeding.

Remiel reaches for his mask, but I stop his hand. “Leave it on. We’re being watched.”

“That was… that was… fuck! I can’t believe we got him!”

I grab his wrist and haul him to my chest. “What part of ‘keep your fucking mouth shut’ didn’t you understand? We’re in public, hero. People know your voice.”

He shrinks, nodding. I open the passenger door for him and tilt my head at it. When Ghost pulls their vehicle around, I follow them down Death Row.

“Whose house?” Remiel asks now that we’re in private.

“Gregory Malone’s.”

“Why?”

“Because his wife gets a say.”

“Why?”

So many questions. “Because she’s a Moros resident, and we don’t disrespect our own.” I glance at him. “Why’re you shaking?” I ask Remiel.

“I don’t know. Shock, maybe. Adrenaline. It’s… the man trying to get me to kill myself is finally…” He sighs, pressing his hands flat to his thighs to stop rubbing them together. “It’s heavy. In a good way.”

“Cock hard, Remiel?”

His hands shift upward to check. “A little,” he admits. “Is yours?”

“Mhm.” I turn the corner and follow Ghost’s tail lights. “But not because of that. Because of you. Because you’re shaking.”

“You like when I shake?”

“I like when you react.”

“Is that why you… over Ophelia’s body? Because you liked how I reacted?” he asks, brave now.

I nod behind my mask.

“Explain it.”

“When I first saw you notice her, I thought you’d freak out. But you didn’t. You just stood there, and it intrigued me. It excited me when you paid more attention to her wheezing breaths than the fact she was dying. I don’t know, it… fascinated me, so I tried to see if I could jar you out of it.”

“You did,” he admits.

“And you pissed yourself.”

He groans.

“Which was hot. Reactions to fear are… fuck, Remiel. I’ve never loved someone’s fear as much as I love yours.”

“Love,” he whispers. “Obsession.”

I ignore that.

“I lost my mind and… yeah, you know what happened after that. I know you hated it.” That’s about as close to an apology as I’m going to get. I don’t think I’m sorry, but I understand that maybe I should be.

“So, it’s not a pissing kink? It’s a fear kink?” he asks.

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